


Chasing Polaris

by iCeDreams, Pimento, Takai13sama



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Accountant Castiel (Supernatural), Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Steampunk, Castiel and Dean Winchester Need to Use Their Words, DCBB 2019, Dean/Cas Big Bang 2019 (Supernatural), Dean/Cas Big Bang Challenge, Engineer Dean Winchester, Fluff and Angst, Inventor Castiel, M/M, Meaningful Look (So Much Meaningful Looks), Road Trips, Running Away, Second Chances, Separations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-22
Updated: 2019-10-22
Packaged: 2020-12-28 10:38:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 52,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21135362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iCeDreams/pseuds/iCeDreams, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pimento/pseuds/Pimento, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Takai13sama/pseuds/Takai13sama
Summary: Dean Winchester feels closed-in with his life at the behemoth,Mary’s Ark. His father has set him up with an arranged marriage and is refusing to budge on Dean’s suggestions to improve the steam engines. So... he does the most obvious thing surly young men do: he runs away.While leaving the steam capital, he inadvertently meets Emmanuel, a man with secrets of his own, intriguing Dean enough to offer him a ride to a common destination.It’s a serendipitous encounter, a trip across the country, and a chance to find where they need to be.





	1. Andromeda: The Chained Maiden

**Author's Note:**

> Since this is a DCBB, I'd really like to start off by offering my thanks to all those who helped with this ficlet. I wasn't really planning on writing a DCBB this year, but when [Takai13sama](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Takai13sama/pseuds/Takai13sama) asked around in Discord, I shrugged and asked ‘why not?’ so this fic started out as a nugget of steampunk/foreigner Dean Cas Road Trip/arranged marriage trope and ended up as this bit of fiction. I hope you enjoy the ride with these two idiots.
> 
> Also thank you to [Jaeh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaeh), the real-life-friend-who-I-met-through-fandom that I needed. Needing someone to rant at how writing was going really helped XD. She’s the one I turn to for helping me bridge my difficult transitions and life in general.
> 
> This fic would NEVER have turned out the way it did without the input of [archeolatry](https://archiveofourown.org/users/archeolatry). They pointed out plot holes, anachronisms, my multitude of run-ons, and my close echoes. They wrestled the fic into submission from start to finish.
> 
> Thank you to [kellydean](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kellydean) for polishing the last of it.
> 
> I also received a lot of one sentence edits from discord. It’s a place where I pop in, ask what’s going on with some of my unruly sentences and receive revelation: [Unforth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unforth/pseuds/Unforth) and [goldenraeofsun](https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldenraeofsun) were so much help. King of Hell Sammy 🌈💟💜 and rainbowskittles also helped for the pie judging, and pie contest gold.
> 
> A very important thank you to [Pimento](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pimento), OMG we totally lucked out with her as an artist and I’m really grateful she did the artwork for us. Not only is she our artist, she went above and beyond as the first grammar beta of the fic. I feel so blessed that such a talented person worked with us. Pimmy’s digital paintings are so realistic, you’d think they were manipulations. You really need to [check out her art for this fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21119249/chapters/50256017) so much and leave comments. 
> 
> As always, thank you to [foxymoley](https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxymoley/pseuds/foxymoley) for introducing me to Discord and the profound bond server. Without you, I would have never found betas or the community that is uplifting. 
> 
> Finally to the mods who have been keeping this challenge. Since its early beginnings in LJ, and now in tumblr, it has grown so much. Thank you for being patient and keeping the Destiel Fic Christmas alive.
> 
> * * *
> 
>   


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> > _The most obvious in this constellation is the Andromeda Galaxy. It is the closest spiral galaxy and one of the brightest Messier objects. It was named after the daughter of the Aethiopian king, who was ravaged by a sea monster Poseidon sent as punishment._
>> 
>> _ **Star Chart XXIV** _
> 
> * * *

There were more than a dozen workers on the deck. Cadets and engineers scrambled with pneumatic tubes while they built the Winchester engines. The clanging of metal against metal drowned out Dean’s thoughts as the daily grind of building another steam engine for Gehenna continued. Standing high on the bridge wing allowed him to keep an eye on the construction.

While Dean wasn’t on duty assembling or installing those engines inland, the wings were his favorite place to watch the crew. As a young boy, it was also one of the safer parts of the ship. He’d been on _Mary’s Ark_ for most of his life. Since his dad figured that putting in the deep sea mineral aquacasite immediately after mining was key to a cleaner and more efficient engine, they’d put all their tinsel (and borrowed more besides) in a massive behemoth working vessel. It mined, constructed, and transported their product to shore.

“Come in, Dean.” His father’s voice filtered through the double doors of the bridge once he was through with the navigation controls. 

Dean’s old worn work boots squeaked on the floor as he entered. He winced and rubbed his pauldron nervously when the doors slammed shut.

“Son,” John greeted with an accompanying nod. “You wanted to see me?”

Dean nodded back, his hands clasped behind him. His father might not be captain of the _Mary’s Ark_, but he oversaw the mining and the engine creation that would be shipped to the islands. Standing on the bridge made Dean feel like his dad would reprimand him like a worker, or worse, scold him like a child. He looked around the room, resisting the urge to fiddle with the lapel of his stark white shirt.

“Dad, I have the new design for the prototype engine. It’d make the energy source more efficient and have little to no exhaust,” Dean explained, as he motioned to the blueprints he’d rolled and brought over.

“The aquacasite mineral works,” John said firmly. “We should build around what works and concentrate on the government contracts. The manufacture and installation of the steam engines in Belo, Caelum, and Gehenna is no joke. It should set you boys for life.”

Dean swallowed the rest of his case. Once his dad decided, there wasn’t anything that could change his course. 

“Instead of fixing what isn’t broken, let’s talk about your wedding.” John began to pace. “We’ve scoured all three islands trying to find you a sufficient match to settle you with for the company’s sake. And yet—and _yet_—you reject every person we introduce you to.” 

Dean gulped. This Dean didn’t understand. Why was his dad so eager to get him to marry, anyway? He was working the family business and trying to improve it, so why this sudden interest in marriage? “Yes, sir.”

“Why?”

Dean shifted in place, looking anywhere but at his father, who was staring at him with narrowed eyes. “I’m not ready to settle down.”

John huffed and sat back on the captain’s chair, rubbing his temples. “Settling down will be good for you, Dean. It might take your mind off meddling what you shouldn’t, and shifting to what it should have been on all along: _Family_.” 

Dean avoided the pointed look his father shot at him. Maybe he and Dad had a different definition of family, but by trying to advance the technology, it’d keep the Winchesters secure. Why couldn’t his dad see that?

“Because of your bullheaded refusal, I’ve chosen someone for you,” John stated with finality. “You’ll meet next week.”

Dean jerked his head, but John waved him away. “You’re dismissed, Dean.”

Dean didn’t remember going out of the bridge and down the ladders, but he found himself in his room, staring blankly at the wall. He lowered himself down to the floor in a crouch and started to breathe deeply to prevent himself from punching something in anger.

Dean felt like his life was crumbling around him. There was no getting out of this one.

When he’d calmed down, Dean ended up in front of his mom’s cabin. There was rustling inside, so he knocked. 

“Come in!” Mary hollered. 

As soon as Dean entered, Mary lit up.

He saw his mom was sitting primly on the bed, her white peasant shirt tucked underneath the leather underbust she used to protect her clothes. He’d never seen her wear skirts on the Ark; she preferred lace-up pantaloons so she could assist the mechanics where she was needed. 

“Dean,” she said as she stood. When his arms wrapped around her and his chin rested on her hairline, she visibly relaxed and exhaled a sigh.

“Mom,” he mumbled into her hair. He kissed the top of her head and held her out at arm’s length. “Dad... he…”

Mary’s face crumpled, and she pulled away from him to take a seat on the bed’s edge. She waved towards the chair at the vanity.

“I understand that the news came as a shock, Dean,” Mary whispered as she squeezed his hand. “It’s not right.” 

Dean glanced in the arched mirror and felt like he had aged a year. The cogs in the glass turned as Dean shut off the light, not able to bear his reflection any longer. Dean sat in the chair, his thoughts far away.

“Did he even say _why_?” Dean asked the question that he couldn’t voice to his father.

“Your father has it in his head that you’ll get purpose once you marry.” Dean scoffed while Mary patted the back of his fingers. “It doesn’t hurt that the merger will send a good number of contracts our way.”

If anyone understood Dean’s predicament, it would be his mother. Grandpa Samuel handed her to John, the poorest of his employees, to teach her a lesson for her headstrong ways. Well, the joke was on him. John may have been poor once, but he ain’t poor now. 

Dean could only imagine how painful it must have been to be forced into an arranged marriage, despite John and Mary learning to tolerate each other later on. Dean didn’t want to be part of another.

“I told him how I felt about it,” Mary said. She walked to her bedside table, pulled out a few papers, and gave them to Dean. He rifled through the stack, eyes widening as he read the text.

“Mom, this is…” Dean’s mouth dropped in awe.

Somehow she’d gotten him and Sam an introduction as crew in a freighter ship out of Caelum. The letter announced that they were boarding the NISC Twelve, and Dean knew it was Benny Lafitte who captained it. His mom seemed ready, in case something like this happened, and she must have cashed in on a few favors to get them that ride.

“To the States?” he asked in an excited, hushed tone.

She cupped his cheek and smiled at him. “Yes. You boys can be free of this place.”

Dean’s head shot up, and he looked at her with panic. He didn’t want to leave his mother here to take the brunt of his father’s anger once he found Dean and Sam gone.

Mary ruffled his hair, then walked back to the bed. Dean opened his mouth only to close it with a snap. He couldn’t believe what she was saying. “What about you, mom?”

Mary shrugged. “I’ll be fine, Dean. Don’t worry about me. My place is here. Now go tell your brother to pack.” She turned back to her vanity and felt around the bottom. She returned to him with a folded stack of twenty-tinsel bills, enough to buy food and accommodation for a few days with some leftover for contingencies. “Here.” She deposited the pile into his hand.

He stared at the money with his mouth held open. “Mom?”

She grinned at him and pointed to his pocket. “Put it away and go get ready. The boat leaves tomorrow.”

**-o-**

The night air was heavy with humidity. Steam engines that were steadily chugging to supply energy for the cities did not help. Their constant thrumming noise in the background and the thick white steam that hung around their islands acted as a mark of civilization.

Amid the heat, Castiel opened the arched French doors of his balcony to let the lazy winds of the summer into his room. It did little for the temperature, but at least he felt a little less closed-in. 

He resumed dressing and selected brass cufflinks to go with the buttons of his overcoat. Choosing to ignore the gold-and-diamond encrusted chain jewelry that his brother Michael sent up a while ago, he fiddled with his sleeves. The ornaments Michael gave him glittered with the lights, but it was too vulgar.

Novaks, Michael said, did nothing by halves.

With a last glance at his visage, Castiel ran a hand through his hair, trying to fix it but knowing it would be hopelessly disheveled anyway. He steeled his breath and walked out of his room to hurry towards the ballroom through the servants’ passages. The Novak Mansion was old but had been well-maintained to retain the original structure. The rest of the islands, on the other hand, had modernized into minimalist buildings attached to the cog-and-wheel steam-powered engines that ran most of what went on inside.

Joshua, their estate manager, bowed when Cas arrived by the ballroom double doors.

Castiel absentmindedly shrugged in his coat. “Am I late?”

“It’s your birthday party, sir,” Joshua said, still with his head bowed, but Castiel could hear the smile in the old man’s tone. “I imagine you’re just on time.”

Castiel looked at Joshua fondly as the butler opened the doors to reveal the ballroom. It glittered with all the money that Michael threw at it. Ice fans powered by external steam engines blew in the much needed cold air to the attendees. Servants circulated with trays of bubbling champagne. The works. Castiel wanted a night alone with his book; instead, Michael had arranged this. 

As he stepped onto the stairs that spiraled into the lower ballroom, people turned to observe him. Despite being quiet and studious, society scrutinized him, the youngest Novak male. Castiel was never in the news and didn’t attend the parties that Luke and Michael were known for. And though Castiel wished that it would grant him anonymity, the Novak name made him an enigma instead.

Guests besieged them, populating round tables that dotted the ballroom. Each one was fitted with expensive cloth, topped with lamps arranged next to the household’s best china. Even the porcelain was tipped with golden edges. The clinking of the champagne glasses accented the low buzz of conversation.

It seemed everyone of import was in attendance: politicians, officers, and businessmen were on the guest list. Only the wealthiest of citizens were graced with an invite to the Novaks’ famous parties. And _no one_ declined an invitation from the Novaks.

Luke found Castiel before he could hide behind the safety of food, or someone suitable to pretend to dance with. His brother wore a crisp, white, three-piece suit, with a single full blooming rose in his pocket and a blood-red cravat to match. Castiel should have evaded Luke when he first smelled the bergamot and jasmine concoction that followed his brother around like a cloud. Frankly, it was off-putting and radiated ‘rich tropical assbutt.’ 

“Castiel!” Luke clapped his brother’s shoulder; on his other arm was one of his many adoring ladies. Castiel hasn’t bothered to remember their names since Luke introduced a new one every week. At his heels were business associates of the Novak Empire, seeking to bask for a few minutes in Luke’s shining light. Conversation stopped as they passed, trying to listen to what they had to say. “I thought we were doing this without you.”

“I’m sorry, Luke, I came as soon as I wanted to.” Castiel knew his brother, and he wouldn’t explode in anger amid a party Michael organized. He was too civilized for that. He would berate Castiel pointedly behind closed doors. It’s why Castiel heaped on the snark when adoring fans surrounded Luke. 

“Isn’t he a charmer?” Luke tutted, wagging his finger; but on his lips was a secret smile of his when he knew something coming would blindside Castiel. Dread enveloped Castiel as Luke gestured towards the front of the ballroom.

Michael was up on a grandiose stage. “Good Evening, everyone! Thank you for coming. I hope you’re all enjoying yourselves.”

There was a chorus of cheers from the attendees, who had come in their best attire—the more elaborate, the better. Suits with monocles and top hats to the side for males, all their buttons and tassels in their place. The women were in lace, velvet, and chiffon, and wreathed in jewels. They glittered in a way that Castiel was not interested in. 

“Now, many of you are here to celebrate my baby brother Castiel’s 30th birthday,” Michael announced. 

It provoked another round of cheers, this time some people even actively tried to tip their heads in Castiel’s direction. 

“We’re also very pleased to announce his engagement to the heir of Winchester Motors!”

More shouting followed.

Castiel’s eyes widened. That he had not expected at all. He turned towards Luke, who was now baring his teeth in amusement. 

“What?”

Luke took a champagne glass from a passing waiter and raised it. “Happy birthday, brother. And congratulations.”

**-o-**

Sam’s cabin was messy, with books on every surface. Dean even spotted Sam’s old NovaTel phone used as a bookmark.

As he frequently helped John with the business side of things, his little brother’s room was nearly always in this state. He had a severe case of ‘no time to clean’—something he shared with John Winchester. John often stressed that his two boys together would take care of Winchester Motors, Dean with the mechanical aspect, and Sam with administrative issues.

Dean remembered when his brother studied every book that came through the ship, as he mentally prepared himself to go to school in Caelum. He wanted to be a scholar and learn everything, but John told Sam that he had to help with the family business.

Dean would miss this, and while living in _Mary’s Ark_ had not been easy, it was still home. But Dad was forcing his hand. The fighting chance Mary was providing was a gift he couldn’t refuse.

Maybe she was scared that without Dean, Dad would focus on Sam instead. And Dean knew that Sam wanted to start on that college degree of his.

“Dean?” Sam asked curiously, looking up from the book on his lap. “How did the talk with Dad go?”

“The usual: He’s set in his ways,” Dean said, as he walked towards Sam slowly. Sam still had his mechanical assist arm attached. Though Dean sat on top of the construction, Sam wouldn’t be a Winchester if he didn’t know at least something about the engines. He must have been fixing a personal project before settling down to read. “Sam, you need to pack.”

Sam straightened in his seat and slowly closed his book, eyeing Dean curiously.

“For what? Another job in the islands?” he asked as he stood up to gather his things. “You want me with you to settle a deal?”

Dean leaned forward to whisper, “We’re jumping off _Mary’s Ark_.”

Sam pulled back to look at Dean in shock. “Excuse me?” 

Dean nodded, a serious expression in place. “Mom got us a way out.”

Sam gaped. “What about the stuff here? We’re still building several machines, and there’s that big contract with NovaCorp about streamlining the power between the islands. Not to mention the contract for the engine upgrades!”

They had employees for that. Besides, Dean had already built the prototype, Dad just needed to show it to their engineers. They had responsibilities, but his dad was a skilled engineer himself. Dean needed this. He needed to separate himself from the family business. 

“Don’t you wanna see what Bobby and Dad always talk about when Bobby comes to bring salvaged parts?” Dean cajoled, trying a different tack. “The time when he jumped trains across America. Driving through all that flat country. They do call America the land of the free.” 

“Wait, back up a minute,” Sam said, holding out his hand. “What brought this on? Dad isn’t throwing you out because of your suggestion, is he?”

Dean rubbed his fingers against the bridge of his nose to ward off an impending headache. “Worse. He’s marrying me off like Grandpa Samuel and Grandpa Henry did with him and Mom. Look where that got them.”

“Then what are we going to do, Dean?” Sam whispered. Dean didn’t even know why they were whispering, it’s not as if Dad has his ear pressed on their doors to listen in. “Freelance our way and run from Dad?”

“If that’s what it takes,” Dean answered grimly. “I thought you’d jump at the idea. Maybe get a chance at Stanford.”

Sam met Dean’s eyes; whatever he found there must have convinced him, since his brother straightened, shuttered his facial expression, then nodded. “Give me ten minutes.”

“Make it five, Sammy. We gotta go.”

**-o-**

Castiel chose the docks to escape from the party—the only other place where his brothers’ thugs wouldn’t bother him was the harbor. He selected a high platform, overlooking the shipping operations as well as the fluid transit of the containers to the steamships. The sharp, briny scent of the sea carried on the breeze, overpowering the constant vapor that the houses produced for power.

The wind whipped Castiel’s hair as he stared out into the waves lapping against the dock. He frequented the seaside when he was younger, mostly because his mother believed in exposing him to the industry while he was young. The Novaks came from old money: moving goods from island to island in trade, sometimes even venturing to unknown lands for spices.

How dare Michael _presume_ that they could order him to marry? Hadn’t he already given his enough of his life to the family? He’d wanted to travel and see the world, and his mother asked him to stay and help expand the business. He’d stayed because he was a dutiful son. 

When he had told his parents he wanted to become a librarian, Luke had laughed at the request. His mother, Naomi, had unsubtly nudged him to take accounting as a course with heavy electives in business so he could _network_. And even though the university in Caelum was the best in Stava Istana, they had sent him abroad to widen his horizons. It would have been fine—an adventure even—if not for the fact that with admittance to Cornell came an entire apartment his mother had bought, complete with a full set of Stavan servants. It was practically an extension of their backyard.

Once he returned, he had looked into their investments. He had tried to focus on the holotech industries and wanted to stay in development. His father had said those were pet projects, none worth the attention of a Novak heir. Castiel’s talents would be used better in overseeing their main shipping business, where all the reliable income came from. Like they didn’t have managers for that. 

Castiel had had five years of doing what the family deemed worthy. He was not going to be railroaded into an arranged marriage so that they could control the rest of his life. The moment that Michael’s attention shifted away from him, he left. His knuckles ached, and he realized he’d been clenching his hands into tight fists. He loosed them as he surveyed the containers that were constantly moving at the port. It reminded Castiel of how his father had expanded the Novak Empire.

Charles Novak had noticed ship captains using radio to talk between vessels. He had acquired Stava Istana Electric Holdings and channeled their research and development into designing a more effective portable communication system; one utilizing more advanced technologies than the old, crackling, weather-affected radio waves. The result was Global Radio Access Control of Energy, or GRACE: a communication hub that allowed conversation over much greater distances without any distortion. It later evolved into a navigation system. GRACE paved the way to personal devices, the forefront of which was now the NovaWatch, which had gone from trendy must-have to something that even the lowliest members of society wore.

Charles later concentrated on buying other businesses and companies to build his conglomerate. He then handed the shipping business to his wife to manage, and she had brought her youngest son along. This port was one of Castiel’s old playgrounds and why its familiar odors and sounds calmed him somewhat.

Castiel watched several vessels on the horizon as their lights dotted the sky like faraway stars. Many were waiting for their turn with the pneumatic cranes. A distant ship horn blared once, signaling its return. Castiel wished he’d had the opportunity to travel for something other than a series of boring business trips. He’d been on a cruise for Luke’s birthday, and if his older brother hadn’t been continuously haranguing him to socialize, he’d have appreciated it more.

He frowned and brought up his watch. It was the NovaWatch version he had worked on, rather than one of the newer ones that had been released after he graduated. Castiel refused to change it despite pressure from the family. Multiple micro-cogs dotted its surface for function—none of the touch screens that their rival companies used—and classic Stavan design.

He tweaked a cog until the faint light of a hologram appeared. Spreading his fingers, the projection expanded. Castiel scanned it for shipping schedules. A familiar name, the Novak Istana Shipping Company, had a ship loading at Caelum today: the NISC Twelve.

His eyes widened as he recognized the opportunity it presented. Castiel let his arm drop, shutting down the hologram. He switched his watch from personal documents to place a call by pressing another cog. “Nova, call Balthazar Roché,” he addressed the voice-controlled personal assistant that came bundled with all NovaTech. 

There was a brief annoying fizzle of static before Nova found the right frequency to connect.

“Hello, darling, happy birthday,” came Balthazar’s flirty tones through the NovaWatch. Balthazar made advances on everything that moved; Castiel took no offense. “Did you enjoy the scrumptious little present I sent you in the mail?” 

Good Lord, the last time the vice president of their shipping line sent Castiel anything he’d had to fumigate his room for days. The stench of sex and drugs had seeped everywhere, and he hadn’t even partaken. 

“Do you know if NISC Twelve still has room for passengers?” Castiel asked, directly to the point. Though airships were already the mode of transport of choice for most, freighter ships could take up to a dozen paying passengers aboard their vessels.

Balthazar snorted. “There’s few who’d accept days of travel from Caelum to New York instead of the three-hour flight. You know she’s a cargo ship and not a cruise liner?”

“I am aware.” Castiel tilted his head up to look at the sky and sighed. “We do own the _Leviathan_. I still can’t believe you pulled one on Michael and named her after an orgy. Get me a single room if you can, please. The ship goes on to England after New York, right?”

“Depends on the cargo, love, but the scheduled shipment should take her on to Southampton.” Balthazar chortled. “Getting as much distance as possible between yourself and the rest of the stuffy Novaks? Sounds like the perfect birthday present. I approve. You’ll need a _nom de guerre_, of course. You’ll have to take meals in the mess hall, and there’s no doctor on board. Not even a definite date of departure or arrival since the ship’s priority is the loading and unloading of merchandise. But I think the crew is just about ready to leave tomorrow.”

“That’s perfect.” Michael wouldn’t think of Castiel traveling on one of their own ships, especially when he could take an airship instead. Besides, no matter how great the distance or how fast Castiel left, Michael was sure to catch up. 

It was best to do as much as he wanted before his eldest brother even got an inkling where he was headed. Though water travel lacked speed, it would give Castiel an experience. NISC Twelve leaving had been a sign. Castiel would be crazy to ignore it. 

“I’ll send you the tickets via your NovaBox, darling. Expect it tonight. Wire me all of your other paperwork ASAP. We usually need to file those three weeks before, but if I can’t cater to the owner, how will I keep my job?”

Castiel shook his head before cutting the call. He tapped his lip thoughtfully, Michael wouldn’t be able to find him immediately, but a little misdirection wouldn’t hurt. He pressed his watch again to open a browser and projected the hologram into an empty space. Pulling up his frequently used airline, he booked a one-way ticket to Egypt, business class, using the family digital wallet. Let Michael find that.

This was the most spontaneous thing he’d done in his entire life; it was also the most liberating. Castiel grinned before he headed back to the Novak Mansion. He needed to pack.

**-o-**

Though the constant work on _Mary’s Ark_ was relentless, it seemed muted under the static of his thoughts. As Dean and Sam waited for the dinghy that regularly brought food and supplies from shores where the massive ship couldn’t make berth, Dean took one last look around.

He used to chase Sam on the deck, giving his poor mother a heart attack at the possibility of having to fish them from the sea after they fell overboard. It was a wonder he and Sam grew up with all limbs intact. 

Their mother met them at the brow just before the final ladder down to the shuttle vessel, for times like this when they didn’t have a harbor. Her presence jolted Dean out of his memories.

“Mom,” he breathed as she wrapped each man in a tight one-armed hug. 

She let go of them, only to find them clinging onto her. Sam had his face buried in her hair, and Dean hunched down so he could rest his chin on her shoulder. 

Sam pulled away first with his eyes red and his face ‘mysteriously’ wet. She wiped his tears but didn’t mention them. Dean pressed a final kiss to her hairline.

“All right,” Dean grunted.

Sam cleared his throat, and Mary’s expression was fond. “I love you both very, very much.”

“Dean!” they heard John from the loudspeakers, which spurred all three of them into action. 

Mary ushered them down the ladder so they could leave. “I’ll tell your father you left for Belo on a job. Just be on the ship by tomorrow afternoon,” she said in a rush before she hurried back to the accommodation towers.

Dean watched his mom climb the ladders, worried about leaving her behind. When he lowered onto the dinghy, he glimpsed John at the bridge, Mary in front of him. He took a step forward, but Sam began to prod him from the boat.

“We’re still closer to Gehenna than Caelum, and the train for Caelum leaves in an hour,” Sam called to Dean as they hurried. Despite the situation, Sam laughed at Dean’s groan.

Dean really hated the train.


	2. Ursa Major: The Great Bear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> > ** __ ** _Ursa Major is known for the asterism of its main seven stars. Its two brightest stars, Dubhe and Merak, can be used to find the Pole Star._
>> 
>> _ **Star Chart XXIV** _

Dean’s eyes were drawn to the thousands of shipping containers. His ears picked up the phantom sound of the cranes whirring. Behind him, Sam was taking in the crates and the bustle of the port. That’ll wake him up from his dozing on the train.

A ship’s horn blaring brought his attention from the waters to the boat itself. NISC Twelve was smaller than _Mary’s Ark_, but the Novak freight ship was elegant in ways that _Mary’s Ark_ wasn’t. It had cleaner lines that were built for taking in cargo efficiently while minimizing the travel time.

The stars were beautiful, even if the bright city lights outshone them. Dean couldn’t wait to get back to the open ocean where the sky was clear. 

He looked towards Caelum with a touch of reluctance. Sam touched his shoulder in question with a nervous, but encouraging, smile. 

“You okay, Dean?” Sam asked, still drowsy from travel. 

They hadn’t stayed up late together in a while. Silly moose slept on the train, he shouldn’t be so tired. Dean had sat wide awake and anxious in that steel death trap.

“Yeah, Sammy, I’m fine. Just beat,” Dean said before he rubbed his face to wake himself up.

Sam was suddenly unsure as he studied the length of the ship. “Captain Lafitte is meeting us right, Dean?”

Dean grinned and led him to the brow, a white, metal staircase that was rigged fore and aft and swung outward by several winches and motors. He spotted Benny at the top of the ladder, waving his hat, waiting for them to climb. 

“Welcome aboard, brother,” Benny said with a grin. Dean laughed and gave him a quick hug with two hard thumps on the back.

“Glad to be here,” Dean said with a smirk towards Benny. He then pointed over his shoulder and asked, “you remember Sammy, right?”

Benny hummed as he rubbed his beard. “Your brother? Your ma wrote about both of you being crew. I _could _use another Messman if you’re up for it.” 

Sam and Dean had performed various menial tasks aboard _Mary’s Ark._ They were both old hands at ship living. 

“So, what are you gonna do once you reach port?” Benny asked as they stepped on top of the brow.

“I have no idea,” Dean said and then laughed because, for the first time, he felt free. “Probably help this brainiac with his dream to go to Stanford. It’s kinda a relief not to know.”

“The sea is like that too. Freedom at its best.” Benny’s eyes swivel to Sam, who gave him a tight smile. He had never been on any vessel other than the Ark, and his nervousness was showing. Dean didn’t really understand ‘cuz one ship is the same as the other.’ Sam had always been the planner and worrier of the two.

“Thanks for having us aboard,” Sam said.

Benny merely shrugged. “It’s a short trip, small crew. Need to arrange a run-through of the protocols to get you caught up on everything, we’re just waiting for a passenger, and then we can set sail.”

Dean immediately perked up. “A passenger?” That was pretty rare nowadays with all the airships. Still, passengers usually meant someone different to talk to than bored seamen.

“Yup.” Benny scratched his beard. “Show Sam where he needs to go, then get your heads down for an hour. It’ll be a bitch gettin’ you up in the mornin’, and you’re gonna be workin’ your asses off. It ain’t no free ride for you, brother,” he said with a laugh shared by Dean. “Get some clothes from lost and found. Y’all won’t fit in like that,” he commented as an afterthought.

It seemed only Sam was a little nervous about leaving Stava _and_ his duties.

**-o-**

Freighter travel didn’t have baggage limits; anything went, especially for trips of more than a few weeks’ duration. Provided you could accommodate them in your berth, you could even bring your own hologram-engines and trunk of books. This made it the perfect method of long-distance travel for people who were migrating—or, in Castiel’s case, running away.

Because he didn’t want Michael to get wind of his plan, Castiel took only his plainest, least adorned clothing—none of the brass and tassels prone to pop up in Stavan formal dress—his own personal watch, and money. He brought only the NovaWatch that he coded and was thus untracked and untraceable, and the design notes of the NovaLens that he’d been working on in his free time. He covered his dressed-down trousers and plain shirt with his favorite tan overcoat. 

Castiel took just under the US dollar limit through the border. No use in alerting Michael _and_ having his currency seized at customs. Then he stripped every gaudy jewel-encrusted bauble Michael had ever given him and tucked them into his clothes and the crevices in his cabin suitcase. A good thing about travel by sea was that he would not get parted from his luggage. 

Castiel carefully chose the copper-plated suitcase that didn’t have the monogrammed N on, leaving the large wardrobe trunks behind. The cabin trunk had enough compartments for his needs and could be easily carried around if he needed to. He walked until he was sufficiently far from the house before he grabbed a trolley, hoping not to arouse suspicion.

He stared at the cabin he’d be staying in for the next few days. The NISC Twelve wasn’t the Novak’s largest cargo ship, and the room was comparable to those econo-hostels that Caelum set up for those who missed the inter-island trains. Cramped and perfunctory, it had its own bathroom and a desk, with a single porthole that looked out directly onto the water.

The passageways were sterile and closed-in, with the doors opening to the inside of the rooms. NISC Twelve was large enough that it didn’t sway while anchored, but Castiel could feel the gentle bobbing as the crew did final preparations. The loud thunks of metal signified the last of the cargo was loaded. The ship, despite its modest size, was one of the Novaks’ more recent acquisitions. 

Castiel navigated his way to the deck, where Captain Lafitte was overseeing the loading before they set sail. The Captain was a broad man with a close-cropped beard. Castiel assumed the beard was to keep the cold of the ocean at bay. He thought it odd since most men in the tropics were clean-shaven due to the overwhelming heat. 

Castiel nodded at the Captain, who tipped his hat when he noticed Castiel coming into view at the foredeck. Today was bright with not a cloud in the sky, making for good sailing. “Bossman expressly told me to make you feel welcome, Mister Allen,” Captain Lafitte boomed, his accent drawling languidly over the vowels.

Balthazar placed the tickets under a false name to throw Michael off, electing to give Castiel a suitably American one: Emmanuel Allen. Castiel would have to be careful with that. Whatever identity he had while traveling, he would have to declare the truth at the border. He hadn’t had enough time to buy fake papers. It would have to do, and he hoped that Michael would check Cairo first before he thought to search in New York. Or America, for that matter.

“Thank you, Captain, but I do not want to not wish to detain you from your duties. I just wanted to experience the departure.” It was a plausible explanation. Balthazar _sold_ these tickets regularly—especially to retired businessmen searching for a sea adventure.

“Mister Roché told me you would need a refresher on nautical language and ship safety,” Captain Lafitte said. His eyes remained on the cargo the crewmen were lashing to the deck.

Frequent on the docks as Castiel might be, going on board the boats hadn’t been a necessity. And he hadn’t enjoyed sailing as much as looking through the containers and seeing the ships pass by. “Yes. I’m sorry for the trouble.”

The Captain waved the concern away. “It just so happens I needed to organize one anyway for my Deck Cadet and my Messman. Twelve’s outward bound at 1500, and we’ll expect you at the library on deck one at 1600. We keep to Atlantic Daylight Time onboard since most of the crew is Bermudan, and it’s a short trip. My navigator will retard the time once we get to the port.”

Castiel noted Captain Lafitte’s term for the country. While everyone who lived on the islands called it Stava Istana, the world referred to them as Bermuda. Stavans accepted the exonym. If his accent hadn’t marked Captain Lafitte as a foreigner, calling Stava ‘Bermuda’ did.

“I’ll get out of your way then, Captain.”

**-o-**

The crew set up the library with two shelves and a long table that doubled as a conference room of sorts. There was a large map of the world dotted with pins, presumably places where they had docked before. The cabinets were made of aluminum and had a low bar at each shelf as well as glass panels in the front, designed to keep the contents in when they hit turbulent waters.

Castiel approached to peruse the books. They were old titles, and most had release dates over five years ago. Someone on the ship was an avid reader, and the creased spines showed it. He pulled random volumes from the shelf to leaf through them. Almost all the text was in English, but there was a smattering of foreign ones, including what looked like a Bible, in a language Castiel couldn’t identify.

A tall, broad man came in, interrupting Castiel’s book hunt. His hair was floppy and tied, and he wore a four-pocket canvas vest over his white shirt, stuffed full with various tools. Castiel put on a polite smile for the new arrival. Before he could speak, another man entered, and Castiel couldn’t help but notice the defined chest and muscular arms of the newcomer as he peeled off his dingy leather jacket and utility belt.

The man was tanned with a dusting of freckles over his nose. His dark brown hair had lightened to near blond at the tips from working under the sun. Any semblance of coherence left Castiel when he gazed into the man’s eyes.

They were a deep, vivid green, speckled with hazel around his iris. Heterochromia was the word, Castiel believed. He fought the sudden urge to step closer and peered into those eyes to check if they were Stavan lenses. 

There had been some advances in the technology of lenses back in Caelum. They’d started experimenting with spherical capsules molded near the cornea from jelly. While the technology wasn’t as widespread as the use of eyeglasses for corrective lenses, there has been a dash of interest in it. Castiel has been building with that model, trying to make tech that conformed to the shape of the eye.

Maybe if he could adopt this man’s eye color as a template for the prototype of the hands-free eyewear, he’d be able to market it. He stopped himself. It wasn’t _proper_. Staring at people just wasn’t done _despite _the fact that those eyes could solve one of his problems with the NovaLens.

“I’m Kevin Tran, Third Officer, with responsibility for safety.” Castiel hadn’t even noticed him come in. Kevin was dark-haired with narrow slanted eyes that looked too young to be wearing the formal white uniform designating his rank. He dropped booklets around the table, looking at the group expectantly.

When Castiel returned, blinking from his musings, he saw that the long-haired man was already seated, barely hiding a snicker. Castiel felt the blood heating his cheeks as he sat down. The green-eyed man scrambled to do the same while rubbing the back of his neck.

“All right, so Sam, Dean, and Emmanuel,” Kevin nodded to each of them in turn, saving Castiel the need for awkward introductions later. “We usually have lifeboat and fire drills every Saturday, but since you guys are just with us for the Bermuda-to-New-York transit, we’ll keep to the essentials. It’s a mishmash of your standard commercial training courses condensed into a few hours.”

Kevin dimmed the lights and showed a jumble of maritime disasters that Castiel either couldn’t or at times didn’t wish to identify. Once done, Kevin clapped three small punctuated beats. “Okay! Now that I have your attention. It’s not only my job to keep you safe aboard, but also yours. But the most important thing first! Stow your phone and keys to your cabin, or you’re gonna lose them. Trust me. I do not want a repeat of the Panama incident.”

Kevin gave a rundown of basic nautical terms—something Castiel was sure was more for him than the two new crew members. For the next few hours, they were taught about rudimentary navigation, as well as emergency drills. Lots and lots of drills. Castiel thought all the exercises were overwhelming.

Kevin had a fire plan, a damage control plan, an evacuation plan, and a dangerous goods plan, copies of which were on the bridge. He showed them their muster station and how to use the steam-escape boats as well as the emergency GRACE powered radios. He demonstrated how to fire the rockets when they needed to in case of an emergency.

Castiel was sure he would drop dead of exhaustion afterward. The only saving grace was the galley plying them with food and Castiel’s surreptitious glances at Dean.

_Well,_ Castiel thought, _if I don’t find a whale in the waters, I can always fill my time Dean-watching._ His family wouldn’t approve; _Naomi_ wouldn’t approve. A blue-collar worker for her youngest child? Never. But she wasn’t here, was she? Nothing wrong with looking, he decided. 

**-o-**

They’d eaten dinner in the library amidst Kevin’s watchful guidance. Castiel was learning more than he cared about types of fire and how to lower a lifeboat. He’d probably still be confused with port and starboard or anything ship-related, but Castiel hoped he wouldn’t need any of it.

He planned to be unobtrusive and unremarkable. All the glancing at Dean was not unobtrusive, but he couldn’t help trying to catch another glimpse. They were parting ways after crossing the Atlantic, and he wanted to get his fill. Under his family’s thumb, there was no time for frivolous ‘dalliances.’ They had standards to maintain. Castiel didn’t know how Luke got away with it.

Despite thinking he would be dead tired after Kevin’s tutorial, Castiel found that—even after a shower—he had the energy to burn. He paced around his room for a while before he realized that this was the most freedom he’d had in ages. He was on a freighter ship and shouldn’t waste the opportunity.

Climbing up the long steps of the accommodation towers, he spotted Kevin, who waved him over to a landing near the topmost deck. Kevin grinned, leaning against what seemed like a barbecue grill station. “Welcome to the bridge wing!”

Castiel’s eyes swept the area. From the small station, you could peek into the bridge and the controls, where Captain Lafitte sat on a pilot’s chair and drank his coffee. The whistle of the steam engine intermittently pierced the relative quiet. “Am I allowed on here?”

“Sure, you are. As long as we aren’t berthing, you’re free to climb up here whenever.” Kevin motioned towards the edge and looked over it. “It’s the best place to visualize the side of the ship.”

Castiel could identify the various landings where the accommodation tower provided a bit of deck before it rose a few steps again. He then noticed the mainmast and the radar on top of the bridge, whose bright lights were shining down on the top deck. 

Kevin grinned. “You have ambitions of going aloft? Might need better sea legs and the Captain’s permission for that one.” He tried to stifle a yawn and only partially succeeded. “Well, I’m out. I have the morning watch tomorrow, and there are no weekends on a ship! Night!”

Castiel waved his goodbye turning towards the ocean. The ship gently rolled through the calm waters under skies clear of clouds. The containers creaked with every swell, but it soon became background noise, like the occasional lap of the larger waves and the passing wind. After climbing down from the bridge wings to the deck, he surveyed the area.

There was nothing much to note on the main deck. Since it was safer to cross the ship using one of the lower levels that still opened into the ocean, a tween deck, especially at this time of the night, Castiel did that. The water was pitch black, save the occasionally reflected sparkle of celestial bodies, radiant and awe-inspiring overhead. Away from the bright lights of Stava, the heavens shone that Castiel felt like he could reach out and touch their shimmering colors.

He strolled all the way up to the bow, his newfound freedom intoxicating. He reveled in the ocean, the night air and the ability to decide what he would do. There was access to a higher deck, Castiel squinted at it before climbing up to inspect a railing with a mounted tower. _Forecastle_, Kevin’s voice reminded him. Grinning at the discovery, Castiel held on to the rails. 

Castiel climbed down the ladder once he got his fill of the briny air whipping through his hair, only to meet up with Sam and Dean. “Are the stars out yet?” Dean asked giddily, like a child who hadn’t seen the sky in a while. Castiel supposed that if he’s been in Stava, that could have been the case.

“I imagine they’re always out in this part of the world,” Castiel answered, grinning back at the crewman’s infectious enthusiasm. _Was that a flirtation?_

There was a painfully long pause before Sam cleared his throat. “Um, the ladder?”

“The ladder?” Castiel echoed. He realized he was blocking the way to the forecastle by holding on to the only means of access. Castiel let go of the rungs as if burned. “Right.”

Castiel gave them what must have been an idiotic expression until they were out of sight. Once both men were out of hearing distance, Castiel slapped his palm against his forehead. He mumbled and berated himself until he reached the accommodation towers.

**-o-**

Stargazing was comforting. Wherever they were in Stava, the twinkling lights blanketed them. It made him feel closer to his mom, knowing that they saw the same picture no matter the distance. 

Dean wanted Sam to see, so he’d be less homesick for the Ark. “Dean? Are you okay?” Sam asked him carefully. 

Dean blinked rapidly, realizing that he had been lost in his thoughts. “Yeah, Sammy,” he said, giving his brother a solid smack to the back. 

Sam’s squawk of terror made Dean laugh all over again. 

“Jerk,” Sam said with a bitch face and a punch to Dean’s shoulder.

Dean rubbed his arm but smirked at Sam. “I had to do it once, Sammy. I won’t do it again, I swear.”

Sam snorted but leaned on the barrier, his arms crossed over the metal beam as he looked out towards the ocean. 

“A little bit of home, Sammy?” Dean asked when he noticed Sam’s mood had shifted. He tipped his head upward.

“Mom must be looking at this now,” Sam whispered. 

“I think so too,” he breathed, as a few shooting stars go by. 

The next morning, Dean woke up with a yawn. A quick check through the porthole showed that it was still dark out. It was the perfect time for a sleepy sunrise.

But first, he needed coffee. Coffee sounded good.

The mess hall was empty, save for the few people who were awake. Dean assumed some of them had finished their watch and were about to go to sleep after a snack. It’s what he did when he worked during the middle watch, the time between midnight and 0400.

The scent of freshly ground beans kick-started his day, and he headed back towards their cabin. He quietly entered the room and put the coffee on the end table beside the bunk. 

“Rise and shine, Sammy!” he called out. Sam immediately began to flail as he tried to untangle from the blankets.

“What time is it, Dean?” Sam asked in a rush before he hopped down, the blanket trailing after him. Dean snickered at his hair—it was everywhere. Sam glanced at the clock and swore under his breath. “It’s early, you jerk.”

Dean guffawed loudly at Sam’s bitch face. “Your coffee’s gonna get cold.” He held the hot cup out with an easy grin.

“Get dressed, sunshine. We got a job to do,” Dean said as he opened the small closet at the foot of the beds. When he turned around, Sam’s hair was pristine, and he was sipping on the drink. 

“I guess we should take Benny up on that offer of more clothes.” Sam pulled his work shirt away from his chest with disgust. It had enough grease stains from working the galley the previous night to make it more gray than white. Dean had to admit that he was right. They both needed new duds.

“To the lost and found we go,” Dean said unnecessarily before he about-faced to the door and headed out.

Sam followed him wearily.

-o-

Castiel woke up to the rolling of his bed. It was a working vessel, so, unlike a cruise ship, there were few to no stabilizers. Thankfully, he wasn’t prone to seasickness.

He groped in the dark for his NovaWatch. Not bothering with Nova’s voice controls so early in the morning. Castiel turned on its holo light, which projected 4:00 AM and the privacy symbol, preventing anyone connecting with his watch through the GRACE. 

After a change of clothes, Castiel meandered over to the mess hall. It smelled like someone had already brewed coffee despite the lack of people about. He had a quick breakfast of cereal, rinsed his bowl, and bounded up to the wings. It was dark out, with the lights from the mast still on. There was an officer that Castiel hadn’t yet been introduced to operating the bridge.

Rubbing his hands to ward off the nights’ chill, Castiel settled against a corner. He swiped the interface of his watch, asking Nova to activate the hologram of his current favorite book. He was on a coming-of-age streak and re-reading Robert Louis Stevenson’s _Treasure Island. _Jim Hawkins’ quest was worth the read, learning about exotic places, and enjoying Jim’s transformation to recognize what was truly worthwhile. 

He was absorbed in the familiar tale before he noticed that he wasn’t alone in the wings anymore. Dean was standing on the rail, leaning towards the side, and contemplating the waters. The sun wasn’t over the horizon yet, but the sky was already lightening.

As if he knew that Castiel’s eyes were on him, Dean turned to catch Castiel examining him. He gave a lopsided grin. “You’re gonna miss out, man.”

With a flick of his wrist, Castiel’s watch dimmed and dropped into sleep mode. At that same moment, the lights overhead were slowly being switched off one by one. He also noticed, for the first time, the aroma of sauteed food wafting up from the kitchen exhaust. 

Castiel braced his hand against his wind-whipped hair and smiled. The deepening peach of the sky as the sun finally deigned to show up filled him with warmth. “I think it’s just about perfect.”

**-o-**

Dean shifted from his perch on the railing to glance at the man beside him. His wild hair whipped as he leaned over, seemingly to get a better view, his blue eyes wide.

Dean realized he was staring at the man more than the view, and he quickly looked away in embarrassment. 

“First time seeing it?” he asked after a few quiet minutes, noting the sun was already peeping over the horizon. 

“The sunrise?”

Dean watched the man’s actions from the corner of his eye. “Yeah, man. Is this your first time seeing it?”

“Yes. I took it for granted during my trips out of Stava. Not for you, I assume?” 

The sun steadily climbed the horizon, bathing them in its warmth while the rest of the mast lights were being switched off.

“Spoiled, I guess—been a ship brat most of my life. But damned fine view, right?”

The man offered his arm for Dean to clasp at the elbow, and Dean grinned at the Stavan way of greeting. He was happy to have something that reminded him of home. 

“The name’s Dean.”

“Hello, Dean. My name is...Emmanuel.”

The deep gruff voice of Emmanuel shouldn’t have affected Dean as much as it did. They were strangers, but Dean was partial to Emmanuel’s chiseled face and scruff. Benny would skin Dean alive if he tried any shenanigans, but Benny also knew Dean flirted with everyone.

Dean clasped the railing loosely, his gaze taking in the seascape. The quiet that settled came with a steady, comfortable rhythm that didn’t need anything else to fill it as both men continued to look out over the ocean. Dean glanced at his watch and sighed, raising an arm against the sun’s blinding light, when it finally broke free of the water.

“I gotta get to work soon, Emmanuel,” Dean said, smiling politely. 

Emmanuel nodded. “I’ll... catch you later, Dean?” 

Dean turned in a slow, exaggerated pivot, knowing Emmanuel was watching him as he walked away. 

“See you ‘round, Manny,” he said over his shoulder and winked at Emmanuel, who appeared to blush at the nickname. “It was real nice meeting you.” Dean started his shift with a smile on his face. 

**-o-**

**__**_Hmmm, nothing but water,_ Castiel thought as he panned the borrowed binoculars over the sea to watch for whales, porpoise, or flying fish. The weather had been perfect for it, with white clouds gathering since just after dawn to block out the sun and a light breeze to offset the humidity. So Castiel had climbed up the forecastle to hunt for some nature. 

While he had seen a couple of birds—their cries sharp amidst the crackling song of the bow against the water—Castiel had yet to get a glimpse of any mammal. Except for Dean, of course. 

The man was on the deck wearing clock-work gears on his right arm ending with a few pistons to help him carry the heavy load, a mask that covered half of his face that had a pressure gauge, and several other cogwheels that ended in a thick bronzed cinder goggles. His steel-toed boots occasionally rang loud as he moved. 

Before lunch, he and two other crewmen had been checking the lashings on the cargo. Now Dean was alone, using a hammer attached to big tubes, and chipping away at the areas of the ship that had rust.

Working on a low hanging pole, his haunches in a squat, he unknowingly gave Castiel a perfect view of his muscular thighs as they tried to burst free of his pants. Surely clothing that tight was not regulation. 

Dean was already driving Castiel to distraction. He wasn’t even supposed to be crew watching. But he was reasonably sure Dean had been flirting earlier, and Castiel appreciated good form.

“You might have more success with those if you were facing the sea.” The voice badly startled Castiel, and he almost dropped the binoculars, fumbling several times before finally catching them.

Castiel looked at the woman who’d taken him unawares. A redhead, hair scraped into a high ponytail, wearing the same protective gear as her crewmates minus the hat and goggles, smirked at him. The uneven tilt of her lips said she knew precisely what Castiel has been up to. Castiel had met most of the crew members at lunch, and she had been at the officer’s table. Chief engineer, if he remembered right. 

“I don’t think it’s the season for whales. I did observe some flying fish skimming the waters,” Castiel volunteered.

“April’s best time for that. Too bad you probably won’t get the chance to see ‘em. Nothing like breaching whales to make you feel very, very small in the grand order of things.”

“I suspect it certainly puts the world’s troubles into perspective,” Castiel nodded.

“I heard you can cook,” she said

Castiel winced; he knew his panicked response at the lunch table when crew members had jokingly asked him whether he had any skills would come back to haunt him. “I can produce a specific pie. That’s about it, but I doubt programming and prototype building is something that would make me useful about the ship, so it was all I could think of...”

She looked intrigued. “What sort of pie?”

“Banana-toffee nut?” the last notes ending with a higher pitch making it out like a question rather than the statement it was. It was one of Castiel‘s grandmother’s recipes.

The woman almost squealed, “Will you marry me?”

Castiel took a step back from the enthusiasm. “I’m gay?”

“So? I’m gay too. I could be your wife-on-the-side,” she said, waving his concerns off as she hooked her arm in his. She lead him away from his secret voyeur’s landing towards the deck itself, chuckling. “To the galley, husband-to-be, I want you to prove your baking skills before we wed.”

“I don’t even know your name!” Castiel protested.

“It’s Charlie!”

After he presented the pie and let the galley staff appreciate his use of their overripe bananas, Castiel found himself being entertained by various of the crew as he explored the ship further. 

Charlie gave him a tour of the engine room, including another opportunity to admire Dean at work. Castiel didn’t bother to disturb him. 

Charlie handed him over to the Captain. Captain Lafitte, in turn, took the time to explain the workings of the bridge. He also demonstrated the navigation and communications systems.

Kevin regaled him of stories of his family. Kevin was Filipino-Chinese by ethnicity, although Stavan by birth. Many of his family members in the Philippines worked in the merchant navy. Kevin, explained happily that it was the common profession for them, to the point that one in five seamen were Filipino.

Castiel bumped into Dean and Sam at every turn. The brothers weren’t officers and their duties kept them busy. It gave no real opportunity for Castiel to get to know them better. Which was a pity, because Castiel was certain he would not glimpse the man after he disembarked in New York.


	3. Cassiopeia: The Queen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> > _Gabriel has taken to calling me different names. Last week, it was Cashton, this week it’s Cassiopeia. I don’t understand why he has to try a different iteration. Castiel works just fine._
>> 
>> **Castiel’s letter to his cousin Anna Milton**

They reached New York Harbor in the afternoon of their three-day trip. The city’s air was different. Heavier, richer. The sea still dominated, but the heavy feeling of water vapor from the engines was a welcome surprise. 

When Dean walked off the boat’s brow, he smirked at Sam. 

“Here’s our ride,” Dean said as he pointed to the man in front of them who held up a ‘Winchester’ sign.

“Winchesters?” the dark-skinned man asked as they got closer.

“Yes, sir,” Sam said with an elbow digging into Dean’s side. 

The man wrinkled his wide nose at their antics but apparently decided to ignore them. “Name’s Rufus. Your transport is right this way,” he said before he walked towards the parking lot. After showing his credentials at a booth, security allowed the boys into the fenced-in area. It was a multi-level garage with hundreds of parked cars.

Once inside, he led them to a trailer with a car being winched off, metal ramps rattling under its weight. 

Dean wanted to take apart the mechanism that provided for the easy load, but the car stole his attention. 

“Oh my god,” Dean whispered as he gazed at the black beast.

Dean noticed the bumper and grills were chrome plated. With a few steps to the left, he set his eyes on the chrome line that ran along the doors, which popped out from the dark exterior. Dean understood from the way she shined that someone had taken care of her bodywork. He only hoped whoever owned her treated her right.

When she was on her own four wheels, Rufus ushered them forward, and Dean immediately touched her with reverence.

“What’s this?” he asked in an awed whisper. Dean may not know cars, but goddammit he knew machines, and this was a beauty with her sharp lines and gleaming body. 

Rufus chuckled and said, “This here’s a Chevrolet Classic Six. Runs on feedwater at those thermal-gas stations. Bobby Singer sent a message. Said to visit him in Sioux Falls, South Dakota.” The man gave Dean the note. “There anything else you want?”

Sam dealt with the paperwork and the goodbyes while Dean’s focus stayed on the car. He stroked the steering wheel before he searched his pockets for his small stash of aquacasite. Once found, Dean added the unrefined mineral to the boiler engine to lower the boiling point of the water, thereby speeding up the process. Then he dropped another near the pilot light so that it would increase temperature once ignited. 

The aquacasite was less potent when carried around and exposed to the air. But, the engines were still more efficient with poor quality aquacasite. Dean lit the pilot light using the mineral as flint. Then, he cranked the lever, which allowed the steam to power the engine.

“Do you even know how to drive this thing?” Sam asked dubiously while signing the handover sheet.

“Do I know how to—” Dean felt like Sam just insulted his favorite pneumatic drill. Did he know how to drive? He revved the engine before he demanded, “Get in, Sammy.”

Sam rolled his eyes as he took his seat. The car lurched a few feet forward and stalled. Sam guffawed. 

Dean glared at his brother while patting the steering wheel to apologize for Sam’s disrespect. “He don’t mean it, Baby.” It was like driving the tractors when he lugged a steam engine from Mary’s Ark to the site of installment. How hard could it be?

Once the engine was steaming, the car gave a roar before rumbling down to a purr. Dean sunk into the leather and listened to her for a few moments. He rested his head on the back of the seat and relaxed with a sigh. 

Sam cleared his throat pointedly. “Are we going to just sit here and waste the feedwater or get a move on?” Sam asked with an excited grin. 

Dean groaned but lifted himself into the proper position to drive. “Let’s grab us some good food and a road map.” Dean’s knees bounced at the prospect.

Dean drove out of the garage. He honked goodbye to the guards, then headed towards the container vans and trucks and maneuvered around them slowly. The Chevrolet was less bulky than the tractors, but the steering was a lot heavier than he was used to. Dean was confident he would adjust to it in no time.

Just before they merged onto the main street, they saw a flash of dark hair that seemed familiar to Dean.

“Manny?” he asked in astonishment as he brought the Chevrolet by the roadside. He stepped out and—ignoring Sam’s grumbling—cupped his hands to holler, “Manny!”

Manny turned at the sound of his voice. His trenchcoat billowed around him and gave Dean a confused head-tilt. Dean immediately perked up and waved him over.

Dean relaxed his arms on the car door and put on a slightly flirty grin. It must be Dean’s lucky day: a beautiful car and a second chance with a man that he found intriguing. They hadn’t done anything aboard the Twelve other than stare, but Dean had been working. Well, he wasn’t working now, was he?

“Where ya’ headed?” Dean asked with genuine interest. 

Manny seemed to hesitate for a moment, eyeing Dean critically. “California.”

Dean whooped and bent down to address Sam. “Care for an extra passenger?” 

Sam shrugged once he realized Dean wasn’t really asking for permission.

“Where are_ you_ two going?” Manny asked as he slowly moved towards Dean while carrying his suitcase.

“California,” Dean smirked. 

“I see.” Manny looked uneasily at Dean and then at Sam. “I wouldn’t want to impose.”

Dean grinned, trying to amp up the charm. “Well now, we ain’t exactly _strangers_, Manny, we shared several moments on the boat, didn’t we?”

Manny shifted restlessly, unsure. He glanced at the road. “That’s true…” he trailed off, although he still looked like he was about to bolt. 

“Look, at the very least, we could give you a ride to the bus stop after getting a bite to eat?” Dean offered. “You could get to know us better. And you’ll save me from being alone with this guy’s toxic fumes.”

Manny paused, then as if deciding, he nodded to himself. “All right, a meal and a ride. Possibly company.”

Dean went around the back of the Chevrolet, where he popped open the trunk. He made grabby hands towards Manny’s case once he was close enough.

“I’ll keep it with me, but thank you, Dean,” he said gruffly while looking at Dean from under his eyelashes.

If there were a way to stop the blush that rose on his cheeks, he would have done so. He cleared his throat and shut the trunk. “No problem, Manny. Just hop in the back.”

Dean settled in his seat, and he found Sam glaring at him. Dean’s eyes immediately narrowed at his brother. “What?” Dean asked in his own bit of irritation. Sam merely shook his head but turned to greet Manny with a small smile when he climbed into the car.

“Hey, Manny.” Sam held out his hand to shake in the Stavan way, full forearm out, palm to elbow. 

Manny nodded at Sam and accepted the greeting with a firm shake. “Hello again, Sam.”

Dean glanced in the rearview at Manny—making himself comfortable, smoothing his palm contentedly on the leather...

“I hope we can hook up to GRACE,” Sam said as he turned to navigate on his phone. “Otherwise, we’ll need to find a paper map.”

Dean whistled. Things were looking up.

**-o-**

Walking around the New York Harbor was more frustrating than navigating an airport. The more than a thousand-kilometer shoreline drove him insane.

At least Castiel had enjoyed the Statue of Liberty. The ship had passed by, and he’d seen it with its cogs, gears, and pipelines before they docked.

He had followed the stream of sailors disembarking for their shore leave and went through customs without incident, but when he reached the port entrance, he was utterly lost.

It was a good thing that Dean had stopped to offer him a ride. 

Truthfully, Castiel was a little nervous. He carried loose bills tucked away in his suitcase, and he knew nothing of the brothers other than they were Stavan and worked on the ship. 

His mother wouldn’t have approved. And that, in the end, convinced him to go. 

Who was he kidding? It didn’t help matters that Dean’s smile entranced him. It was like Castiel’s problems didn’t exist when he was graced with that smile, and they didn’t even know each other. The man attracted him, something he hadn’t been able to entertain in Stava because he had been busy building his family’s empire. 

Maybe now he would get a chance to see what the fuss was about with flirting—receiving a free ride to Gabriel’s in the mix? Well, he would not complain. 

They bought a map at a Gas N’ Sip, where they stopped to refill the car’s feedwater for the engine boiler. Then they went to a Biggerson’s nearby for a quick dinner. Its bold letters and the skewed BIG plastered on the signage, the gears of the kitchen large and steaming seen from the front. Castiel settled for the grilled mozzarella with prosciutto as an appetizer to share and listened with half an ear to Dean and Sam’s order. 

The aroma of smoked mozzarella heralded the appetizers’ arrival and made Castiel’s stomach rumble. His eyes widened at the portions, which easily covered the entire table that fit four. The cook loaded it with fresh arugula, tomatoes, and undoubtedly, more than a pound of cured ham. It boggled Castiel. In Stava, no one served the food in such quantities. Not to mention, the price of the dish was equal to the much smaller portions back home. 

He pushed the mozzarella to the brothers in offering, which they readily munched on. They laid the map on the cramped space that the plate was not taking up. 

“We gotta meet Bobby in Sioux Falls,” Dean said, trying to spot the city. Distractedly, he clarified to Castiel, “He’s the one who set us up with the car. He’s an old friend of mom and dad’s.”

Dean grabbed a small piece of bread then tried to scoop a little of everything on it, trying to add the cheese with the number of toppings he had already loaded. Castiel nodded to show he was listening, and had they been closer, he would have scooped up the cheese Dean was struggling with and loaded it to his. But they were strangers, and touching someone else’s food was reserved for long-time friends.

The rest of their orders arrived with drinks, and the brothers proceeded to plan while they ate. Dean was a messy eater, and more than once, Castiel was tempted to brush away the crumbs that stuck to his lips, but he refrained.

Sam scrunched his face up at the imaginary route Dean tracked with his finger. “Why are we going through Kansas City?”

“Even I’ve heard of casinos, Sammy?” Dean asked pointedly. His eyes darted over to Cas for a second before he focused on both his food and Sam.

“The name’s Sam, Jerk.” 

“Bitch,” was the immediate reply from Dean.

Castiel stole a glance at the two of them. It didn’t seem like they were coming to blows. So this was brotherly banter, then. Similar to what he would have done with Gabriel, but never with Luke and Michael.

“Why are we even planning stops? We pick a route from here to Sioux Falls and then Bobby’s to Stanford, then just follow the general direction and go West. Stop when I get tired of driving or when we see something we want to do. We’ll drive in the evenings to avoid traffic and the heat.”

Reluctantly, Sam agreed, “But no casinos, Dean. I mean it.”

“Psh. Fine.” Dean snorted, and the brothers carried on affectionately bickering over the route. 

Castiel wasn’t a fan of gambling, he preferred to hole up in his room with a book rather than going out. And even if he did have an opinion on the subject, he wasn’t sure how long he would be tagging along with the brothers’ adventures. It made him feel like he didn’t have a right to influence them on their route. 

The sip of water Castiel took caused him to grimace at the aftertaste. It differed greatly from the clean spring water that Stava served at its sit-downs. When they finished the meal, Castiel insisted on paying the tab since he was freeloading in Sam and Dean’s car. 

Castiel inquired with the waitress about bus schedules out of New York while he motioned for the bill. She provided him with an in-house NovaBox so that Nova could answer the question. To his disappointment, the next trip to Los Angeles had at _least_ an eight-hour wait.

Once the server returned for their change, they asked to wrap the extra sirloin for them. 

Castiel blinked at the four flat cutouts she dropped onto their table. “What are you doing?” he asked as Dean picked the first one up.

“Getting the take out ready,” Dean replied, looking pointedly at the half-made box in his hand. 

Good Lord, Castiel had never wrapped his own meals in his life. That was why he had servants. And in Stava, waiters helpfully packed the leftovers for patrons. 

Before they set out, Cas swiped the bills Dean had left on the table before following them, offering them the money. 

The brothers looked at each other and laughed. “Manny, dude. Don’t you ever tip?” 

“Caelum isn’t tipping country. You don’t _pay_ for something more than your food because we pay our workers enough!” Castiel growled, shaking the fistful of cash in the air. Dean carefully took the money and gave it to Sam. 

“You ain’t in Caelum anymore, and they have tips here like in Gehenna,” Dean explained as Sam returned to the table to leave the money. 

Castiel tried to think back on similar experiences in college, but he’d had his own servants then, and barely went anywhere alone. “Right, I’ll remember that. My steam bus will leave in eight hours. We can part ways here,” Castiel offered.

“You sure?” Dean asked, then he checked his watch. It was five in the afternoon. He did calculations and looked appalled that Castiel was staying downtown until past midnight. “Dude, you’ve nothing to do here and no place to stay. We’re driving through the next state over. It’ll save you time and money, and you could hop on the bus there.”

Castiel reevaluated. He _had _just come off a three-day trip. He would rather sleep, be it in a car seat or a motel bed, than wait in the midst of the city for transportation he might miss if he dropped dead from exhaustion. 

Since Castiel spent his entire higher education in the US, he thought he had it made. But, he realized, he lived at an apartment his parents had bought for him, socialized with those they approved of, did what they told him to. He knew nothing about surviving in America—the brothers might be able to help him.

“That is a more reasonable suggestion,” Castiel agreed. “If you’re sure it won’t be any trouble? You’ve been working, and now you’re going to drive through the night.”

“Aww, man, you’re no trouble!” Dean assured him, giving a heavy thump on his back before he opened the doors to the Chevrolet. “I’m good to go. Besides, driving ‘til early morning will beat driving during the day with all the traffic.”

“Fewer chances for him to hit pedestrians too,” Sam quipped, earning himself a cuff from Dean.

**-o-**

Sam had been patient during their drive.

He ignored the light made by Manny’s NovaWatch when he read. He was silent when Manny stared out the window at the moonlit landscape. He stayed quiet when Manny and Dean stole glances at each other, sometimes without the other knowing, and sometimes even locking eyes. There were times Dean would look away first. But more often than not, Sam would have to poke his brother in the arm to get him to pay attention to the road again.

Dean’s awkward smile to Sam was kind of funny, but that’s not the point.

He’d been silent from the Biggerson’s, and to the two thermal-gas stations they refilled the feedwater in. 

Well, no more. Dean needed to hear his concerns.

After driving into the early morning, Dean had announced that the next stop would be their last before they settled for the day in a city in Ohio.

Once stopped, Sam grabbed Dean when Manny wasn’t watching them and began to pull him to the back. Immediately the stench of urine assaulted their nose, and Sam couldn’t get the conversation out fast enough. 

“Whoa, Sammy, this is awkward. Do you need me to hold your hand while you go pee or something?”

Sam gave him an epic bitch face and glanced at the dirty mirror to Dean’s right. “I just wanted to talk to you without Manny around.” 

Dean immediately scratched his chin, confused. “Manny? Why?” He paused for a moment. “You’ve been quiet ever since I asked him to join us.”

Sam sighed and pushed the hair out of his face. “Yeah, well, that’s ‘cause I figured we should talk about it before you let your crush ride with us all the way to California.” Dean opened his mouth to protest, but Sam cut him off. “What if he’s a criminal? He’s clearly escaping from something. He could be dangerous, Dean. Hell, he could be stealing the car right now!” 

Dean looked at him incredulously.

“And who would’ve given him the opportunity, huh?” Dean asked, before taking a deep breath. “Sam, I wouldn’t have offered him a ride if I thought he was dangerous. He seemed like a nice guy on the boat.” Dean suddenly narrowed his eyes at Sam, who gulped at that. “We’re slipping out of Stava, too. Don’t forget that.”

Before Sam said anything more, Dean opened the door with a snap, leaving Sam in the bathroom with his thoughts.

**-o-**

Dean couldn’t believe his little brother. The kid should have known that Dean would’ve thought about that, right? Of_ course_, Manny could be dangerous, but. Manny was taking a chance on them too.

Dean turned the corner and saw Manny leaning against the hood, arms crossed, and focused on the ground. Dean had a stray thought of how he looked good under the light.

“Hey, man,” Dean said. 

Manny’s head snapped up and smiled—one that barely lifted the edge of his lips.

“Hello, Dean.” He straightened and walked towards the back door. “Are we ready to go?” 

“Yeah, just gotta wait for Sam,” Dean said as he got into the driver’s seat.

Dean winked as he caught Manny watching him. Manny looked away, and Dean noticed the smallest of blushes on his face. Dean found the reddened tips of his ears even cuter. He liked the slight stubble the man had, and the creases underneath his eyes. To top it off, his hair was disheveled beyond belief; Dean mentally dubbed it ‘sex hair.’

His focus returned to Manny’s eyes. The guy had gotten over his initial embarrassment and was now blatantly staring back.

To distract himself from the intensity of the gaze, Dean—ever the patient one—began to tap his thumb on his thigh and surveyed the thermal-gas station. He noticed the barest hint of the piping running underneath the gutter of the building. He assumed it was for the engine he’d found beside the bathroom door, always ready to produce steam to power the station. 

Sam appeared abruptly and derailed Dean’s train of thought. Dean quickly focused on the feedwater pumps in front of him, but he felt Manny’s eyes trained on him.

So Sam was worried that he had invited a virtual stranger to spend the cramped road trip with them, but couldn’t he see that Manny needed their help? That maybe Manny’s situation wasn’t so different from theirs? The opportunity to find out if this was a real connection or just a few stolen glances with an awkward guy trying to get to the other side of the US, was an added bonus. 

Sam cleared his throat, turned around in his seat, and asked roughly, “You’re not a criminal, are you?”

Dean had half a mind to smack his brother, but he heard Manny chuckle beside him.

“I could ask you the same,” Manny retorted, eyebrows raised. “I didn’t ask to join you, Sam, your brother _invited_ me.”

Sam assessed him for a moment before he sighed. “I’m sorry. I’ve been kinda rude about all this. Forgive me?” 

“It’s forgotten.” Manny looked between them in consideration before his eyes landed on Dean. “I could still take the bus. There’s bound to be a stop here somewhere.”

Dean snorted as he turned the crank-handle of the Chevrolet to help the steam continue to the engine. He patted the steering wheel before he stated with a grin and a wink, “Nah, buddy. You’re fine. Just enjoy the ride, yeah?” 

**-o-**

Wooster was a funny name, Dean decided as they drove into town. The thermal-gas station outside the city limits had plenty of souvenirs. His favorites were keychains with a red rooster that had the R crossed out of ‘Rooster’ and a W written above it. He found it hilarious and guessed that the residents were pretty proud of its name. 

They bought goggles in the same store. The drive with the steam car was open to the elements. The winds that passed through the interior were drying out all of their eyes. 

“It’s on the left here,” Sam said as he looked up from his phone.

When Dean pulled into the motel, he gave it a quick once over.

He had a flashback to Gehenna when he saw the building’s unusual architecture. It had steam pipes leading to generators on the roof, like the models that Dean used to repair back home.

After admiring the engineering, Dean walked up to the front desk with Sam and Manny in tow. At almost three o’clock in the morning, the lobby was empty, and most of the lights were dimmed.

“Lemme get a room with two beds, please,” Dean said with a charming grin to the receptionist at the counter, whose name tag read ‘Alfie.’ 

Alfie gave his best service smile in response and began typing on the NovaBox. Dean guessed Alfie was in his late twenties. He had a bit of a babyface, but Dean saw the laugh line along his cheeks.

Before Dean could flirt more, Sam elbowed him in the ribs. Dean glared at his brother but caught sight of Manny, who had turned away, arms crossed, frowning.

“I just need a deposit.” Alfie efficiently handled the cash Dean gave him. He slid the keys forward as he said, “here you go.”

Sam, who had been standing to the side of the counter and browsing tourist leaflets, grabbed the keys. 

Dean touched Manny’s elbow, so he could catch the man’s eye. “You good for a room? We could have a spare bed if you want.”

Dean was sure he saw the beginning of a grimace on Manny’s face, but it quickly disappeared. The other man drew back from him as he spoke. An expression that Dean couldn’t identify passed through Manny’s eyes before he sighed. “No, it’s all right. I think I can manage to get myself a room.” Dean didn’t understand why Manny was suddenly acting... standoffish. He looked over to Sam, wondering if his brother had a clue, but Sam was still engrossed in the brochures. 

Dean stood beside Sam to give Manny space to check in, noting the breakfast times, and the possible GRACE network uplink. The motel also offered in-room connection to the engines if they needed to charge their phones, so that was a plus.

“Did we get rooms close to each other?” Sam asked Manny once he got his own key.

“I’m in room 107,” Manny said, as he adjusted his hold over his suitcase and showed his key to the brothers.

Sam chuckled and held up his own, which had the numbers ‘106’ printed on them. 

Dean grinned and, despite the weapons-grade glare it earned him, clapped Sam’s shoulder. What was the problem with these two? You’d think they were the ones running on vapor.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m dead on my feet. I’m gonna go crash,” Dean said accompanied by a jaw-cracking yawn. He grabbed the key from Sam, intent on getting his bags from the Chevrolet. Sam and Manny trailed tiredly behind him.

**-o-**

Castiel returned to his room just after breaking fast. He bumped into Sam, dressed in clothes for a morning run.

Castiel tipped his head in greeting. They would be spending a lot of time in close quarters, and Sam’s concerns were valid, the last thing he wanted to do was push his luck. He could have booked a flight to California, but he’d rather not risk alerting Michael by using the digital wallet.

Sam stopped as if deciding what to do, before motioning towards the Chevrolet parked right outside their motel rooms. “I’m going to town to grab food before Dean wakes up. Wanna come with?”

“There’s a breakfast buffet at the cafe,” Castiel offered, but followed Sam down the stairs. The continental breakfast included in their bill left a lot to be desired. He’d taken a banana from the table and some hard-boiled eggs but missed the salted cod they had back home. Five days from his home town and already he missed the food. It didn’t bode well for the trip.

Sam snorted. “Checked it out after my run, Dean’s never gonna drink the swill they have for coffee here.”

Castiel hadn’t taken the coffee. It made him jittery even if it woke him up, so he usually just drank water. With the traveling they were still bound to do, sleeping in the car would be handy anyway.

They ended up on a fifteen-minute drive downtown. The city woke up; the engines turned off, lamp-lighters were climbing up their posts to extinguish the flames from the street lamps. Occasionally, Castiel would see wind-and-gear turbines that the more modern towns adopted. Most of the stores on the main street were red brick and gave the place a quaint old town feel. 

Sam parked the car in an empty lot, near a cafe. Before Castiel could follow Sam in, a store display attracted his attention.

Castiel meandered over to the shop next door, an advert for used books in big, bold letters pinned high in the window. The green sign hanging over the entrance had calligraphy that read: _Books in Stock,_ accompanied by much smaller text of buy, sell, trade. When Castiel entered, the musty scent of old ink, paper, and glue greeted him. He inhaled deeply, immediately nostalgic. 

He didn’t have a lot of books because he’d used the NovaWatch almost exclusively since NovaCorp released it, and the pADD before holographic novels became a staple. What paperbacks he owned were those stories that he’d enjoyed re-reading. Favorites that he bought after reading them in digital so he could proudly show off his mini-library, displayed on the shelves over his bed, or lend them to his nonexistent friends.

The store was crammed full of shelves, floor to ceiling and from wall to wall with a break at the center aisle. Castiel wandered around but ended up in the science section. He picked up the first book that caught his eye, leather-bound with the edges gilded. There were areas where the metallic sheen had dulled into a faint gray, but the front cover still had an impressive debossing of the night sky. 

Castiel rubbed the smooth leather before opening it carefully. Its pages were brittle, but not yellowing. It was a star chart, and the next few pictures were of celestial bodies taken from a telescope.

It reminded Castiel when he ran into Dean and Sam at the forecastle of NISC Twelve and later with Dean alone at the sunrise. There was a twinge of guilt when he hadn’t disclosed his real name to them. The brothers invited him to their car and their company, but he just couldn’t risk Michael finding him prematurely. He didn’t even want to examine the emotion he felt when Dean had openly flirted with the receptionist at the motel. 

Dean had offered him a ride and company through his long trip, that should be enough. Castiel had already noticed that the man flirted with anything that moved; he shouldn’t hope for more than passing fancy.

Closing the book, he brought it to the till, manned by a young woman whose name tag read ‘Becky.’ Castiel pushed over the antique tome before asking, “Do you know where I could change my GRACE uplink codes for the NovaWatch?” 

It would give him some form of anonymity to change his codes. Castiel could perform the switch, but he hadn’t the terminal or the equipment to do it. 

“You have a NovaWatch? I’ve wanted to own one for ages, but it’s just not as affordable as the Atis phones, you know? At least Atis is kinda catching up on the holo front already,” Becky gushed while she punches Castiel’s purchase. “You bought that secondhand, didn’t you? That’s why you need new codes? You could go to a Novak service center downtown. But if you want it cheap but trustworthy, Dr. Badass’ shop is down Walnut street.”

“Where’s that?”

“Around the corner. Next to the market and near the large ‘Before I die’ chalkboard.”

“Thank you.” Castiel paid using a hundred-dollar bill to break up his cash from the bank. He needed to get some smaller bills, or the shopkeepers would be suspicious—big bills were unusual in small towns. 

Becky continued her prattling as she finished the transaction. “Oh, what’s your accent? You speak really good English. Are you British?”

If Castiel were the short-tempered sort, he might have acted on the temptation to strangle the girl. _I speak English perfectly, you heathen._ Castiel cleared his throat to censor that thought and said instead, “The British call my accent American. I’m from Stava Istana?” 

At Becky’s blank look, Castiel explained, “You might be more familiar with Bermuda?”

“Oh yeah, yeah. I’ve always wanted to vacation in Bermuda,” Becky babbled on, her attention already drifting. She bagged the book and gave him the receipt. “Anyway, if you need books for your NovaWatch, you can direct download from our server here or just use the NVCode on your receipt. Have a nice day!”

Castiel nodded in thanks, going over the random bars and digitized marks that comprised the NVCode. He escaped into the bright outdoors, where he found Sam with a coffee carrier and a bag of pastries. “I was about to look for you, we should get our phones switched to the GRACE carriers here or something.”

Castiel held up his watch. “Already working on it. We need to go to a shop just around the corner. We can pick up the local network codes from there. Then, I can inform my… erm… the person I’m staying with that I’m on my way to California.”

**-o-**

Sam inhaled the aroma of baked bread as he entered the cafe. His stomach rumbled, and he wondered if he should eat then bring food back for Dean later. He knew his brother rarely slept long, but he wanted to shop, and Dean wouldn’t want to accompany him. 

After scanning the menu board, he decided on an egg sandwich and coffee. He quickly opened up the wrapper of his meal and took a bite on his way out. The spread was rich in flavor, causing him to pause and savor the shrimp mixed in with the hummus and paprika. It accentuated the egg perfectly. He’d have to remember to pass by later to get food for Dean.

From where he paused, he spotted flyers beside the door, almost blocking the “open” sign. Instantly interested in them, he skimmed the contents. There were flyers for missing people or items, ads for products, and upcoming events.

There was a fair, a church bake sale, and a play at the local school. Printed on the glossy paper were a huge Ferris Wheel, cotton candy, pies, and a map with the enormous fairgrounds. Instantly curious, he picked one up to read. He needed to persuade Dean and see if Manny was interested.

Speaking of which, he’d lost Manny just before he entered the cafe. How were they going to find each other if they got separated? Sam turned his head to scan the surrounding area and saw Manny walk out of the store across the street, bag in hand. He felt lucky they hadn’t gotten too far away from each other.

When Sam walked up to Manny and brought up his concern, Manny held up his watch and mentioned Dr. Badass’ shop. “We can pick up the local network codes from there. Then, I can inform my… erm… the person I’m staying with that I’m on my way to California.”

Sam nodded with a grin. “I’m glad you’ll have a place to stay when we get you there.” Sam let his eyes wander to the bookstore that Manny came out of. “You like books?” 

Manny returned the smile and said, “Very much. It’s an escape to another, more exciting world.”

Sam laughed and agreed wholeheartedly.

“What books do you like?” he asked after a moment. 

Manny tilted his head in thought before he answered, “fantasy. Books like Algernon Blackwood’s_ The Wendigo_ and _Tarzan of the Apes_.”

“I don’t think I’ve read those before,” Sam said with interest. 

“They’re quite good. I suggest you read them when you can.”

“I might do that.”

“And you, Sam? What do you enjoy?” Sam heard the tentative curiosity in Manny’s voice, which made Sam consider him in a new light. He was working on getting to know Sam, not just his brother. He should give Manny a chance, after all. 

“Stories where I learn something, history books. But I also enjoy some fantasy, like _Angel Island_ and _The Mysterious Stranger_.”

“I haven’t read those,” Manny admitted, edging closer to Sam.

Sam chuckled. “I have copies back in Stava, but we could probably get some here. It’s pretty controversial, though, very much a critique of religion.”

“I’ll be sure to look them up, Sam,” Manny said with a gummy smile all for him.

They walked in silence for a few minutes as they took in the sights. When they passed a store called ‘JK Gift Shop,’ they saw a picturesque sitting area with small trees and potted flowers of white, maroon, and yellow. The red brick floor inset with wooden benches to allow passersby to rest and relax.

A bee drew Manny’s attention. He watched intently as it traveled from flower to flower, his knee bent for a closer look. Once it flew away, he turned back to Sam, who’d bitten his lip to contain the amused smile at Manny’s focus. 

Manny scratched an ear, his gaze cast downwards. 

Sam had embarrassed the guy, it hadn’t been his intention at all. “Do you know what a county fair is?” Sam asked, trying to get Manny to feel at ease.

Manny dipped his head to the side and hummed in thought. “No, but we can ask one of the locals, I guess.” 

They ended up walking to a small shop just across from a busy market. A man with a mullet behind a desk surrounded by various pieces of equipment. There were scattered cogs and engine parts everywhere, and the steady chugging of the steam engine provided a sonic background to the cluttered room, various holos projected around the walls. 

Manny rapped his knuckles against the wooden table to get the man’s attention, startling the guy. “I need either a new GRACE network code or to be completely cut off by it. Or can you unlock my NovaWatch and hook it to a provider other than TelNovaCorp? That would be better still.”

Manny unclasped his watch and entrusted it to the proprietor who took a magnifying glass and tilted the watch this way and that. 

Not for the first time, Sam wondered what Manny’s story was. NovaWatches sold at a premium, even in Caelum. It told Sam that Manny could afford transportation. He could be one of those nouveau-riche guys who used up his wealth in bad investments. Maybe he’d moved to America for greener pastures. It wasn’t common for people with money to use cargo ships to travel, and Manny didn’t look like an adventurer, so there must be an interesting story there somewhere.

“I can untether you from GRACE and switch to a local SG & T, but that will make you wired,” the man with the mullet hair replied while he hooked the watch to his equipment. “You’d need a physical connection to the hub for all calls.” 

“If you untether my NovaWatch, can you link two Novak devices to a private frequency so that those two won’t require a lined connection?” Once he confirmed that he could, Manny filled the forms for the provider while the tech guy tinkered with the NovaWatch. He linked Sam’s phone to Castiel’s watch, so they’d have a way to talk without a wired hub.

“What’s a county fair?” Sam asked curiously, showing the repairman the flier he’d taken from Jimmy John’s Cafe. 

The mullet head swiped one cog in the watch, activating a hologram that projected the system before. “There’re rides and food vendors who travel,” he answered without looking up. “Those stalls typically only sell there. Contests and animal shows, concerts and fireworks, that type of thing.”

That sounded very interesting, and Sam wanted to go now. He and Dean didn’t have a deadline for going to Palo Alto. Dean had chosen the state because Stanford had always been Sam’s dream. But they still had to check how he could get a place, whether he needed to pass entrance exams, and settle the logistics of his enrollment... 

This road trip was looking up. 

**-o-**

“What you got for me, Sammy?” Dean asked when he heard the door close and assumed Sam had come back from his errands downtown. 

The water pressure in the motel was crap, but washing the grime and dirt from the drive had felt good. Dean stepped out of the bathroom with his shirt over his shoulder and stretched his arms above his head. 

A throat cleared to his left, and he jolted at Manny and Sam, who both had different expressions on their faces. Dean resisted the urge to run back for a towel and hide his near-nakedness behind it. Thank god he had drawers on. What was Sam thinking for Chrissake? He shouldn’t have brought Manny inside their room.

Dean spotted Manny, whose face was flush, trying—and failing—to hide how intently he was staring. _“Well now,”_ Dean thought_._ He slowly flexed his pectorals as he pulled on his collarless work shirt, followed by his trusty plaid pants.

After that little display, Sam had raised both his eyebrows, as if to say ‘really?’ Dean responded with an eye-roll his own. No way was he gonna get shamed in his own room.

Dean noticed the food on the table and marched towards it giddily.

“For me?” Dean asked with a wide smile. Sam made a show of moving away from the meal, hands in the air in surrender.

Dean chuckled at his little brother’s antics and rifled through the offering. He saw a waxed-paper bag of chips and a wrapped sandwich. The lettuce caused him to scoff but grinned at the amount of roast beef in it.

When he took a bite, he groaned and sat down on Sam’s bed. “What is this?” he asked around his second bite.

Sam and Manny shared an amused look over his groans of appreciation.

“It’s a Hunter’s Club, from someplace called Jimmy John’s,” Sam informed Dean enthusiastically.

“So what d’ya want, Sammy?” He asked when he’d polished off the sandwich. He sipped the coffee and let out a satisfied sigh, rubbing his stomach in contentment.

“What do you mean?” Sam asked innocently as he began to clean up Dean’s trash.

Dean eyed him wearily. “You’re clearly buttering me up, so, where are you wanting to go?” At this question, Sam pulled the piece of paper from his back pocket.

Dean snatched it quickly, scanning its contents: a map of the rides and schedule of events. There was a concert in the grandstand, and Dean was a fan of music and dancing. So that’s a thing. A demolition derby too, whatever that is… but that happened yesterday. But what was _really _interesting was the food. They had _fried Oreos_. Who thinks up these things? He had to try some. 

Taking Dean’s curiosity as consent, Sam’s excitement increased. 

“They have snacks that you can’t get anywhere else.” Sam always knew that the way to Dean’s permission was via his stomach.

Convinced, Dean stood up and looked at the two of them. “Well? We goin’?”

“Yes, Dean. I just need to be at the deli by 8:50 tonight.” Manny ran a hand through his hair absentmindedly (no wonder it was a permanent mess.) “The bus for Los Angeles leaves then.” 

Dean had a queasy feeling at the thought of Manny leaving but tabled those thoughts for the moment.

Sam whipped out his phone and began to hum as he navigated to something or other. After a minute, he looked up and grinned at Dean. He held the “It’ll only take us six minutes, so let’s go!”

“Is it open already?” Dean reached into his pocket and grabbed his old Nova flip phone. He checked the time and blinked. “It’s only ten, Sammy.”

Sam smirked and pointed to the flyer on the bed. “It opens at ten this morning and closes at ten tonight.”

Dean chuckled and snagged the canvas vest he used for work to put over his worn, secondhand cotton shirt.

He made sure he had everything with him and gestured for the Chevrolet’s pilot lighter. Sam tossed them at him in a smooth, practiced gesture. Dean abruptly opened the door and turned to the two men gaping at him in confusion. “Are we going now, or waiting until it’s closed?” he asked, sarcasm lacing his words. “We still have to check out.”

Once in the car, Sam couldn’t shut up about all that he and Manny had gotten up to. Dean noticed Manny stayed silent the whole time, and Dean was a little glad about that. It meant he could give Sam an appeasing smile. He tried to figure out why hearing about their day out caused the muscles of his jaw to tense. 

**-o-**

Dean turned onto Killbuck Road and caught the first sight of the fair. He heard Sam exclaim ‘whoa’ and couldn’t help beaming at the view. He parked and got out quickly, keeping the door open for Manny. While they shared a secret smile, Dean saw out of the corner of his eye that Sam was gawking at the buildings.

They were red and white with green roofs, and none of them had any steam attachments.

“Let’s find the goods,” Dean said. 

Sam rolled his eyes, but Manny favored Dean with a soft look before turning away. Dean wished he could have some alone time with Manny, but wiped that notion from his mind. 

Dean patted the hood of the Chevrolet while he went around her. He prayed that no one would steal her in the lot.

“Where should we go first?” Sam asked, his pace speeding up to a fast trot. 

It was good that Sam found this place. Dean hadn’t gotten to see this expression very much on his brother’s face when they were home—at Stava Istana. There’d been no time for him to relax and geek out over things.

A touch to his elbow shook Dean out of his reverie. “Dean.” 

Dean threw an arm over Manny’s shoulder. “My man, let’s go have some fun.”

The fair had tons of things to nibble on, including ‘funnel cakes’—a plate full of fried, net-like doughcovered in powdered sugar. Dean had no idea where they came up with this stuff, but it was heavenly. He gave some to Manny, who tried a bite and insisted he didn’t want more but then kept stealing pieces when he thought Dean wasn’t looking. When he offered Sam a taste, he looked disgusted at the fried ‘monstrosity.’

Dean would miss the easy camaraderie when Manny left. He was awkward, and he clung on to his suitcase like no one’s business, but he always tried to offer to drive (even if Dean would never allow it) or pay for food and rooms as ‘passage.’ He worked hard to prove that he _could_ make this road trip with the least amount of trouble for Dean and Sam. It didn’t hurt that he was easy on the eyes, either.

They passed through some buildings that held nothing but exhibits with winners for ‘Best Quilt,’ ‘Best Vegetables,’ and ‘Best Paintings.’ There were two buildings with children’s arts and crafts. On every craft made by a kid, rested a blue ‘1st Place’ ribbon. Dean thought it a nice touch.

It wasn’t too long, however, until Dean heard that there was a pie contest somewhere; he insisted on going right there and then. He practically dragged Sam and Manny across the fairgrounds to see the wooden table where everyone lined up their baked goods. 

“Savory pie?!” Dean admonished, looking horrified. And what about all these rhubarb? It looked like celery, and, in Dean’s expert opinion, vegetables had no business being in a pie. 

He marched over to sweet pies, seeing that there were several in a row inside a glass case. One, with a slice missing and a scattering of crushed almonds on top, had a blue ribbon pinned into its crust. His stomach rumbled at all the sweets and felt himself salivating.

Turning to a spectator, Castiel asked, “When is the pie available for the public to eat?”

The woman beside him gasped at the suggestion. “You don’t eat competition pie!” 

“What do you _mean_ you don’t eat the pie?” Dean interrupted, agitated as he gestured to the glass case. “It got a blue ribbon. It’s gotta taste good!”

“Those pies have been there for days,” she whispered harshly, although Dean didn’t know why she had to. Her voice was still loud enough for him to hear. “In this heat? You just don’t eat that.”

“Lady, a pie that doesn’t have eggs, milk, or butter could stay out of the coolbox for at least two days, and that’s a conservative figure,” Dean lectures. What was wrong with these people? Sugar is a natural preservative. That’s why they make jams! It’s a _preserve_ for a reason.

The lady harrumphed in annoyance before she walked away. 

“Don’t argue with Dean about pie,” Sam whispered to Manny from the corner of his mouth. “He once bought out the entire apple pie stock in Biggerson’s because he had a craving. It was ugly.”

Dean eyed the pie more but turned around with mischief in his eyes. “Let’s find _more_ food for lunch!”

Minutes later (and with Dean already complaining about all the walking they had to do), they found themselves standing outside an odd-looking trailer. It had words stuck to the top of the windows. They read: ‘Corn Dogs,’ ‘Deep-Fried Buckeyes,’ and the like. 

After receiving their treats (Dean with more funnel cake, Manny with lemonade, and Sam with apple slices mixed in freshly ground honey roasted peanut butter), they wandered the buildings at a sedate pace. When Manny kept glancing at Dean’s food, Dean held the pastry out so he could take a piece. When Sam tried, he got his hand smacked away. 

Dean ended up buying an assortment of desserts that Sam looked at with disgust. He had corn dogs, fried chicken that had bacon and Monterey cheese in the breading. Some buckeyes were bought too because those definitely had bacon on them. He even sampled some deep-fried mealworms wrapped in cheese, and he didn’t pass up the bacon brittle or the candied apple. Manny was game to try all of it with Dean and laughed at the experience, rubbing his stomach as they ate their fill. Sam was simply appalled at how much they had eaten.

After walking through the animal barns, Sam spouted out random facts with Manny about animals. Dean walked behind them, enjoying their company even if they were a pair of nerds.

That weird, queasy feeling was back when he watched Sam and Manny. Dean was almost left out despite being with them. They weren’t ignoring him—no, in fact, they told _him_ facts more than each other. Because they made room for Dean, he felt better about Sam and Manny’s heads close together talking about the barn. He still got some twinges of irrational chest heaviness, though. 

He looked up at the sky to see the sun high in the air and whistled, getting Sam and Manny’s attention. He pulled the flyer Sam had given him earlier out of his pocket.

“I’m tired of all this walkin’. Let’s go find the rides, Sammy,” he said with a wide grin as he brought his attention to the map from the brochure. Sam took advantage of his height to look over people’s heads then pointed to the booth.

“I’ll hold the refreshments while you two ride,” Manny offered as they walked closer.

Dean frowned at him as he put the brochure back in his pocket. “You don’t want to try anything?” 

Manny shook his head and glanced at his suitcase. That wasn’t suspicious at _all_. They might have been aiding a bank robber for all he knew. Imagine a bank robber hitchhiking his way to California. It was kinda hilarious.

“I’ll be fine, I promise. I just don’t feel like riding,” Manny insisted. 

Dean figured he was lying and didn’t want to part with the bag, but said nothing. Manny was entitled to his secrets. It was almost small enough to be mistaken for a briefcase, but they did get a few questioning looks. Grabbing Manny’s wrist, Dean pulled him towards Sam. 

Behind the ticket line, Dean glanced at Manny and their fingers before they locked gazes with each other. Manny seemed to be immune from all the tension, but Dean wasn’t. Before he did anything he might regret, Sam yelled something at them from his position in the line. Thankfully, it looked like this one was fast-moving.

Dean let Manny’s hand drop, ignoring the heat that slowly leeched off.

They quickly moved towards Sam, excusing themselves between, and waited in line with him.

At the window, Dean asked Manny, “You’re sure you don’t want to go on anything?”

Manny smiled slightly with an apology in his eyes. “Thank you, but no. Someone has to keep all of our things together.”

Dean caught Sam’s curious gaze and briskly shook his head. When Sam cast one more questionable glance at Manny, Dean cleared his throat. Sam turned to the woman and paid her for two unlimited tickets, which came in the form of bright red armbands. 

“Where to first?” Dean asked in awe. From where he stood in the afternoon sun, he could see names like ‘Zipper’ and ‘Bullet,’ and a massive one in a flaming font named ‘The Ring of Fire.’ The fairground was littered with colorful boards, sparkling under the sheen of tacky lights.

“The fastest one,” Sam said, a wicked grin on his face. 

The fastest coaster was also the tallest, and to Dean, it looked like they used steam engines to launch the coasters along with gravity to rev the ride from zero to awesome. Dean threw his head back and laughed loudly, drawing eyes to them. “I like the way you think, Sammy!”

**-o-**

Hours passed, and Dean and Sam ticked off all the roller coasters one by one. In the distance, Dean noticed other people bringing their purses and bags with them into the carriages on a ride, so he assumed (and hoped) that Manny’s suitcase would be allowed.

He told Sam to grab some cotton candy from a nearby stall. While Sam followed directions, Dean ran back to the ticket booth to snag some tickets so Manny could join in the fun with him at least once.

Slightly breathless, he took his treat from Sam, and together, they headed towards where Manny sat. He had his copper-plated suitcase on his lap and the food and drinks they hadn’t finished yet beside him on the chair.

Manny inclined his head as he looked at Dean. “Hello, Dean. Did you enjoy yourself?”

Dean chuckled and held out his hand, which Manny took to stand up. He pulled his things along as Dean watched him with fondness. Dean didn’t want to unclasp their hands but ended up doing it anyway. Sam was behind him, and he was hyper-aware of his brother’s eyes on his back.

“Come on, I found a ride where they’ll let you take your stupid bag on with you,” Dean said with a teasing grin as they walked where Dean led.

“I apologize for being so much trouble,” Manny said honestly. Dean shrugged him off and pointed.

“I bought tickets for the Umbrellas,” Dean said proudly as he held up the four tickets Manny would need for the ride.

“The Umbrellas? You mean the only one we haven’t gone on yet?” Sam asks with slight confusion in his voice. “The one that looks like a Ferris Wheel but sometimes runs obliquely? That one?” 

Manny was quiet as he observed where Dean pointed.

“Yeah,” Dean offered his cotton candy to Manny, who hesitated before shrugging and tearing a piece off. Dean watched as Manny ate it with a satisfied smile. 

He was supposed to do something here. He felt like he had to go on this ride with him. Who knows, maybe he’d get a kiss for it.

He glanced thoughtfully at the man beside him, watching him examine the bright, colorful umbrella-shaped cars as they approached. 

“It looks a lot faster than the Ferris Wheel,” Manny said with uncertainty. Dean took his arm and patted it reassuringly. 

“I’m sure they wouldn’t put it there if it wasn't safe,” he said. He saw Sam rolling his eyes in his periphery, and Dean waggled his eyebrows at his brother, then at Manny. Sam shook his head but smiled at the current passengers going round and round. Dean’s grin changed from teasing to fond as he watched Sam’s happiness.

When they were next in line, Dean turned to Sam and caught his eye. He pointedly looked at the seat, waiting for them then pointed to himself and Manny. 

Sam huffed annoyance and then clutched his stomach. “Ah, _oh no_, I think I ate something bad. I need to sit this one out, you guys.” He slowly backed out of line, still clutching his belly.

Manny began to follow Sam. “Are you okay, Sam? We could take you to the clinic instead.”

“No!” Sam exclaimed, then softened his tone. “No. All I have to do is to wait for it to go down, instead of coming back up.”

“Okay, then I suppose I’ll ride with Dean,” Manny said, remaining in line. Dean gave Sam a huge thumbs up, mouthing ‘thank you’ to his answering scowl. Sam gestured at him to shoo.

Once they were strapped into their seats, Dean turned to Manny. “Um, I’m a little afraid of heights. Do you mind if I hold your hand?”

Manny looked skeptical, his eyes questioning as he slid to the other attractions that Dean has been in before. “You seemed fine in the other rides.”

“This one’s different. And it’s embarrassing to show I’m scared to _Sam, _yanno?”

Manny shrugged and clutched Dean’s hand in his. Dean grinned to himself and watched Manny’s face lit up as the ride raised them up.

_Manny was gorgeous_, Dean thought to himself in awe. Though the world swirled around them in the rainbow colors of the umbrella and the twinkling lights of the fair, Dean only had eyes for Manny. Manny, who was oblivious to Dean’s attention, fixated on the view.

“There’s the Chevrolet!” Manny suddenly called out, practically bouncing off his seat as he pointed towards it. In the split-second Dean spotted the car, he had to admit it was a pretty sight. Its black hood reflected the sun’s orange rays as it set.

Dean brought his attention back to Manny, only to see those blue eyes focused on him.

Manny had a slight scruff from not shaving that morning, framing his chiseled jaw and accentuating the cleft in his chin. 

Dean couldn’t believe how good-looking this man was. It should be against the law to be this attractive.

Dean wrapped his arm around Manny, who watched him with hooded eyes before he leaned against him. Manny smelled of the fair, with all its fried food and a day spent under the sun, but underneath was the clean notes of those expensive Stana colognes. 

“I’m flying!” Manny said on an exhale, giddy with adrenaline.

_Maybe it’s not a kiss,_ Dean thought, _but this is just as good._

**-o-**

They let themselves be jostled along with the crowd of people flowing towards the grandstand. The background of music and cheers distracted the brothers from squabbling. It interested Dean enough to buy tickets to join in the periphery. The stage was too far away to see properly, but huge holoEngines hung everywhere, projecting large 3-dimensional figures of the band every few meters. It felt as if the band was performing beside them.

“Welcome to the Wayward Sisters!” the lead singer, a woman with colorful tattoos all the way from wrist to elbow, blared into the mic. The crowd cheered enthusiastically. “For y’all who’s new here’s Donna at bass, Claire at the drums, and Alex at the keyboards!”

They all gave few notes when their names were called before Donna takes the mic and gestures to their lead, “and let’s not forget Jody!”

They cheered, showing their adoration in whistles and screams. The crowd’s passion was palpable. Once Jody started the riff of their song, everyone jumped up and down to the rhythm of Claire’s steady backbeat, and Donna’s echoing bass. Dean did an air guitar along with the lead guitarist, intermittently pulling Castiel to dance and drape his arms around him while swaying. Even Sam bobbed his head with the drums.

Castiel’s heart beat with the pulse of the song, and he awkwardly tried to follow the words. He wasn’t familiar with the number—all he heard were the people’s feet as they simultaneously hit the ground in time with the rhythm and the audience hollering the lyrics. 

Dean grinned and hollered over the noise, “this is great, huh?”

If anything, Dean’s happiness was infectious. So Castiel waved and shouted at appropriate times mimicking Dean—if Castiel’s words didn’t match the song, the crowd was loud enough that no one bothered.

Everyone danced and drank, and it was impossible for Castiel not to revel in the excitement. After a few songs, Sam excused himself to get some food. The band had transitioned from their high energy songs to a few slow ones that had the surrounding audience pairing off and swaying. 

Dean had drifted a little closer, his arm brushing Castiel’s. He leaned forward to speak near Castiel’s ear, “Not much of a music fan, huh?” 

Castiel’s face heated, embarrassed at having been caught out. He thought he’d been clapping and shouting enough to cover for it. “This is a good song,” Castiel said in deflection.

Dean chuckled, and in a low, sexy voice crooned along, “now my consolation is in the stardust of a song.”

Castiel needed air. His lungs weren’t working correctly. The music and the guitar continued about him, but Castiel never regained his equilibrium. Thank god Sam returned with drinks, and Castiel downed half of his in one gulp. Dean would be the death of him.

The Wayward Sisters continued to play, but Dean worried for the time to Manny’s steam bus, so he ushered both Sam and Castiel away from the grandstand.

“I wanted to see the fireworks,” Sam said morosely but followed along.

“Don’t want to get stuck getting out of the lot with all those cars, and Manny’s bus is gonna leave soon,” Dean complained. On the way to the car, they passed the building where the pies had been judged. Dean surreptitiously looked around and ordered Sam and Castiel to stand guard.

“What are you—” Sam started, but Dean had already disappeared. He came back just when Castiel was about to go after him.

Dean had something tucked under his arm underneath his leather jacket and jerked his head towards the parking lot. “Let’s skedaddle.”

He had stolen the prizewinning pie, tossing it down when they were safely inside the car. “Couldn’t let this beauty go to waste.”

“I’m with highway robbers,” Castiel groaned as the Chevrolet backed out of its parking bay. “I’m going to get arrested, sent to jail, and then deported. They’re never going to allow me to cross the border again because of a pie.”

“You’re not using that term right,” Sam criticized while he glared at the cloth-wrapped goods—complete with its blue ribbon—in his lap. 

“Don’t worry, Manny,” Dean reassured him, thumbs tapping the steering wheel. “No one’s gonna catch us stealing a pie.”

**-o-**

Dean drove them down to the Market and Deli then parked inside the lot. He clambered out while Castiel scrambled with his suitcase, the etched tree on the copper reflecting in the light. They took in the deli and the sign proclaiming the cost of double-smoked off ham on the board. From the outside, Castiel saw the red booths where diners were eating.

“So, this is it. Your bus stop,” Dean stated the obvious while looking anywhere but at Castiel. “I got you in just in time for your 8:50 ride.”

“Thank you, Dean,” Castiel said. Despite his misgivings of joining the brothers and the initial friction between him and Sam, Castiel had truly enjoyed their stay in Wooster. He’d never been on a road trip before, Caelum was filled with trains, and he had no one to share the journey with anyway. 

“You know, it’s gonna be at least two days to get to California,” Dean pointed out as the bus, which was similar to train without tracks, pulled into the stop. It let out its current load of passengers with a single toot as the workers added more water to the boilers and checked the fires. “That kinda looks like a cramped ride, and to do it alone, cross-country must be terrible. People who make those seats always think everyone is some kind of contortionist. They’re never comfortable.”

That was true, but he shouldn’t be taking up too much of the brothers’ time. To soften the blow of the departure, Castiel opened the latches of his bag and rooted around until he found the book of astronomy he bought earlier and presented it to Dean. “It’s been a truly wonderful couple of days. I hope when you gaze at them, you think of me fondly.”

Before Dean could respond, Castiel quickly lugged the suitcase out of the car and walked towards the bus. He felt Dean’s eyes following him with every step. As he reached the ticketing booth, his NovaWatch beeped, he raised his wrist to activate the gestures feature and check the call. Sam’s private radiofrequency flashed in the air.

Castiel spun around to see Dean holding Sam’s phone to his ear, and the book Castiel had just given him opened to the first page. He accepted the call, and Dean’s rough voice filtered through, “It’d help my peace of mind if you join us for the rest of the journey instead of riding that crappy bus, _Castiel._”

Castiel forgot that he’d penned a short note of thanks signed with his real name in the book. “You could have just _walked_ to talk to me.”

“Where’s your sense of drama?” Dean grinned as he ambled towards Castiel. “Come on, we’re driving to Joliet anyway. If you’re uneasy about Sam and me, Joliet is just a hop from the Chicago train station. Train’s got to beat a cramped bus any day.”

Castiel looked at the bus in indecision.

Dean tried again, “A lady at the fair told me that there has been news of _stabbings and robberies_ on those things. Do you _really _want to take your chances with a dozen strangers?”

“As opposed to just two?” Castiel smiled, appreciating the effort Dean made to convince him.

“There’s a forest reserve with a birdhouse and conservatory in Joliet,” Dean offered. “Sam couldn’t stop talking about it last night.”

The bus honked its horns in a final call for passengers.

Castiel stepped away from the bus and towards the brothers’ car. “A forest reserve?”

“Yeah. Lots of… nature. Big trees,” Dean said awkwardly.

Castiel threw back his head and laughed. “Big trees, you say?” He flicked his wrist down just as Dean reached him, the phone still raised in the air. He leaned close before murmuring, “All right, I’m listening.”


	4. Pyxis: The Compass

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> > _Dad let me hold a compass today while we were learning about navigation. It’s awesome that we always know where the Ark is with just the sky._
>> 
>> **Journal of a young Dean Winchester**

They drove straight out of town after the bus stop, with Sam regaling them with the tale of his time alone while they rode the Umbrellas.

“She was touching my chest!” he complained, rubbing the area, almost as if he could wipe the feeling away. “She wouldn’t drop it even after I asked her to!”

After Dean and Castiel’s ride, he was, miraculously, well enough to try the attraction on his own. As a single rider, the attendants paired him up with some random girl. She had no scruples about going over personal boundaries. Castiel felt terrible for Sam’s encounter, but he had to admit, it was a little bit funny.

Dean guffawed unrepentantly, hitting the steering wheel in mirth despite Sam’s glare steadily directed at him. “Did she ask for your hand in marriage too?” Dean teased.

“She probably would’ve if the ride lasted for another five minutes!” Sam complained.

Castiel thought that must have been an exaggeration, surely, but one look at Sam’s scowl made Castiel believe that Sam was only half-joking.

Dean laughed at his brother’s expense as they drove into a store parking lot and urged them all to get out of the car. Castiel frowned, they hadn’t been driving all that long, and Dean usually insisted on waiting for more extensive rest stops populated with a good selection of stores before stretching their legs.

The building they approached was a giant purple monstrosity. It dominated the almost deserted highway. The lot was empty except for one other car, but it was open for business despite the hour. _Dragon Fire, _the signage proclaimed in white serif.

“You wanted to see a light show, right?” Dean indulgently said as they strolled in. “Just keep it within budget, Sammy.”

Castiel walked around the purple aisles. He gawked at the colorful boxes with depictions of starbursts. In Caelum concessionaires sold fireworks in stalls, and with fewer selections. He didn’t know what exactly ‘Red, White, and Boom’ looked like or what the ‘Battle of Saratoga’ had to do with anything.

Castiel picked up a fountain, the cheapest 500gram repeater, and a Bermuda Triangle. The last appealed to Castiel, purely because it was named after his country. Castiel brought his choices to the cashier.

Broad and blond, he comported himself as a military man—precisely the kind Castiel was usually attracted to but never had the courage to engage.

Castiel pushed the items onto the counter for ‘Cole’—if his name badge was accurate—to sort. 

“You have to sign a waiver saying that your purchase will leave the state of Ohio in the next forty-eight hours and that you won’t fire them in state. Failure to do so would book you a misdemeanor of the first degree,” Cole said.

Castiel’s head tilted as he perused the paper, but seeing that he wasn’t even going to stay for the next hour, he signed it. Cole punched the items into the register just as Dean and Sam approached with their basket.

“That’ll be 105.48,” Cole said as he bagged the assortment.

Castiel rooted around his ever-present suitcase for the change. “I was sure this was under a hundred. Why are your prices different from the tags? It’s confusing.”

“Ohio imposes a 5.8 sales tax on goods,” the man explained, waiting patiently.

“The tax is not printed on the price tag? That’s absurd!” Castiel complained, trying to remember if he ran into this problem during college but realized he hardly ever actually shopped for anything himself. When he did, he didn’t care about the money he was spending because it had been on his parents’ deep bank account. He should start accounting now that he had finite resources.

The man shrugged, addressed Dean and Sam’s purchases before they were on their way to some remote field, preferably in a state that was more fireworks friendly.

Castiel must have nodded off down the long stretch of the Lincoln Highway. One moment he’d been watching the flat fields and uninteresting scenery in the relative quiet, the next Sam was speaking quietly to Dean, “you didn’t flirt with that guy.”

“Wasn’t my type, Sam,” Dean protested, although he’d apparently known what Sam was talking about. Castiel continued to pretend to sleep through the conversation, sure that it was going to be awkward if he woke up now.

“When has that _ever_ stopped you?” Sam asked incredulously. He was cradling their stolen pie and the plastic bag of fireworks they’d bought. “I once saw you flirt with Mildred the Cook! And she wasn’t a day under eighty.”

Castiel’s heart sank. He’d suspected that it was in Dean’s nature to show his favor with everyone, something he’d already seen but had been ready to ignore. What was there to see in Castiel? He wasn’t as steadfast and confident as Michael, as charismatic as Luke or as empathic as Gabriel. There’s no reason for Dean to recognize him as any more than a straggler in need of help. 

Dean sighed. “Dude, drop it.”

“Fine, fine,” Sam said after a while. “I just say that ‘cause, you know, you should think about _why _that’s a thing all of a sudden.”

They drove on for two hours to be sure they were clear of the state line and outside Ohio. Dean pulled the Chevrolet to the side of the road beside a vacant field in the middle of nowhere. The dusty turn, past the last bus stop on the interstate, led into a remote backward clearing that was just a little too creepy if you asked Castiel. Who would choose to alight from the bus on an empty highway?

Dean maneuvered the car and used the headlights to light their way as he set up the fireworks. He covered the hood with a blanket from the trunk, something kept for inclement weather, and arranged their impromptu picnic made up of leftovers from the Market and Deli across it. Food was bountiful since they were still not accustomed to large American portions. In the place of pride at the center of the feast was Dean’s stolen pie.

They started with the low-sound fountain that Castiel bought and lit that up, oohing and ahhing over the hiss while it fanned red, gold, and green, complete with traveling pearls of light scattering around it. Sam took one of the soggy half sandwiches from the pile of food, and Dean chose the pie, eating it from the tin with a plastic fork.

Castiel, who’d settled for a piece of cheese, asked, “So, was it worth it?”

“Pie is always worth it!” Dean exclaimed. Taking a forkful of the filling, he offered it to Castiel.

Castiel hesitated for a moment before he tasted it. It was cinnamon with a hint of another spice that Castiel couldn’t identify. Matched with the tart apple and the crust, it explained why the judges had given this pie a blue ribbon. Dean was right, the crust might not have remained as flaky and golden from the few days out in the open, but the filling was definitely a winner.

“We must set off the rest all at once,” Castiel pointed out once the fountain dropped to a sputter, licking the crumbs off his lips. “We have to leave in case the police arrive.”

The brothers looked at him in shock as Cas observed the dying embers, the smell of gunpowder already starting to saturate the air. “What d’you mean? We’re just setting off some rockets,” Dean protested.

Castiel grimaced. Back home firecrackers were set off for birthdays, for Christmas, for the town fair, or just about anything, and no one would blink. They’d be annoyed at the noise, but no one would call the police—they’d fire more on own their birthdays as payback. “You signed waivers, right? Well, that’s in Ohio. I’m not sure what state we’re in or whether fireworks are allowed, but I think we should leave to be on the safe side.”

When Castiel was in college, he’d been friends with his next-door neighbor, Inias. Known for his parties, Inias invited ten friends over for an end-of-exams celebration. Unfortunately for Inias, it didn’t end with the ten. Each of his friends brought two others and started an unrelenting chain. 

The party had gone from an intimate gathering that blew up to a hundred strong rave. Everyone invited everyone else. Police became involved. They surrounded the building, got everyone out, had speaking-trumpets blaring. Castiel even had to identify himself to go into his own apartment. They took disturbing the peace seriously in America.

Dean grumbled but took the remaining fireworks out, while Sam and Cas hurriedly packed the remnants of their feast into bags. By the time they had finished, Dean was lighting the fuses one by one before he ran back to them. They didn’t use the roman candles, but the chrysanthemum and the peonies that lit the sky from the repeaters were worth every penny. Sam was grinning at the flashing bursts of color.

“Alright, let’s go,” Sam pronounced after watching the first two light up. They hurriedly piled into the car and drove away. Sam watched the pyrotechnics from his window with a carefree grin.

**-o-**

Sam remembered the sizzling of the explosives and the colors of the lights in the sky. Even now, a day after the display and his heart felt full and overwhelmed. Their father never allowed fireworks on the ships, saying they were too much of a hazard, so he was thankful that Dean went out of his way to treat him.

He breathed out slowly as he lifted himself to sit, stretching his legs and arms forward with a quiet sigh before he started on his daily sit-ups and push-ups.

Nothing like a good work out in the morning.

After his jog and a shower, he connected to the GRACE network with his NovaTel phone and searched for Stanford University. He’d known that he wanted to attend for a long time. In the beginning, he chose law because it seemed like the opposite of building machines. Later on, he just fell in love with it because of the sheer challenge: learning concepts, trying to translate legalese into something people could understand, and then solving problems within the law and its constraints. It was these mental acrobatics that he looked forward to. 

Whenever he had the chance, Sam checked the requirements through Stanford’s information pages, and he did so again. He navigated the menu and reviewed the application process. He’d need to study for the undergraduate entrance exams, especially since he was homeschooled by Mom. Hopefully, it would all work out.

He had a few questions, which he wrote on the motel notepad. Once he accomplished what he could, he shut off the site with a happy sigh and stood up for another round of stretching. That completed, he checked the time and then saw that his brother was asleep.

It was early, and Dean was usually a late sleeper, except when they were on jobs. He must be exhausted, sleeping four hours, and driving for eight. In the beginning, Dean's driving had been touch and go, with false starts and stops. Fortunately, Dean drove the tuggers, their industrial tractors for Winchester Motors, and was able to improve slowly. 

But Sam still owed Dean for the way he woke him up onboard the NISC Twelve. Sam tiptoed to his bed, grabbed a pillow then threw it at Dean. His brother snorted and shot up with a slurred “wha—?” before Dean finished his word, Sam heaved another pillow at his face.

“Wake up, Dean,” Sam said with a laugh.

Dean lifted himself just enough to see what Sam was up to. “Time is it, Sammy?” He asked with significantly less slur.

“Lil’ after nine.”

Dean groaned and rolled over before sitting up. He dragged his hand from his cheek to his scalp and scratched then started on his morning rituals. Sam used the time to go through the different degree courses available at Stanford. He saw mechanical engineering, that would be perfect for his brother. “Hey, Dean?” 

Dean grunted his response, it was pre-coffee Dean, so Sam didn’t expect coherence.

“We leavin’ tonight?” Sam asked.

Dean glanced at him and said, “Maybe.”

“But we haven’t even been around town, Dean. What if there’s something cool here?”

Dean paused in thought before he said, “I know you’re wanting to get to college, kid, so why all the pit stops?”

“First, I’m not a kid, Dean. Second, I only just applied for my place, so I gotta wait for their response.”

Dean grinned at him. “Really? Thought you said you wouldn’t be able to?”

“The site says the deadline is January, so I have plenty of time. I just need to study for some test,” he said enthusiastically. Dean rolled his eyes at him, but Sam wouldn’t let his brother dampen his mood. He sat back down with his grin slowly fading into thoughtfulness. “Say, Dean…”

Dean threw down his duffle on the bed and groaned. “What?”

“Why don’t you apply as well?”

Dean glanced at Sam with an odd mix of hesitancy and defiance. “Why would I want to?” 

“You could get a job a lot easier. Backing up all that knowledge you have with a qualification,” Sam said with an air of nonchalance.

Dean snorted. “I’m goin’ on this trip for you, Sam.”

“What do you mean you’re taking this trip for me?” Sam shifted in the chair and placed his elbows on his knees, his chin rested on his palms. “We went to the US because Dad ordered you to marry someone you didn’t know.”

“What do you think would happen if I wasn’t there? Who’s gonna end up on the marriage block? It was gonna fall on you!” Dean flung his hand out towards Sam, whose nose was flared, his hackles up.

“You don’t know that.”

“You’ve always wanted to move to the States, right? To try and get a fancy degree?” Dean shifted around the room to gather their belongings and stuff them into their bags. “Dad didn’t want you to because it would take you too far from the Ark.”

“But those are my dreams. What do _you_ want to do?” 

Dean’s ambitions should be entirely different from Sam’s. Surely Dean had his own dreams. What did he expect to do at Stanford? Wait for Sam to come home then feed his brother? It wasn’t like Sam was still thirteen and waiting on John and Mary to finish their latest engine installation inland. 

“Get you to Stanford!” Dean shouted, pinching the bridge of his nose as if to ward off a headache.

“Well, that’s...” Sam was at a loss for words. Dean had presented this trip as deliverance from both the ship and the engagement. He'd agreed to come because Dad was stubbornly trying to keep to his old ways, and Sam wanted to try new things, so going to the US was the logical choice. But though Sam was getting his freedom, Dean just seemed like he was trading one set of shackles for another.

When his brother came to him, he said he needed to go for himself. That he was leaving Stava because he hated the idea of marrying. Sam had thought he might have at least had a plan other than pinning all his hopes on his younger brother. “If you’re not thinking of doing anything else, why not just look at the engineering courses at Stanford? You could take the exams and apply with me or submit it next year when we have our results.”

“I don’t need a fancy degree to tinker with machines,” Dean scoffed. Most of what Dean did was self-taught, as natural and instinctive as breathing. “I’m not gonna need to make those machines anyway because I left that behind. Why do you want me to learn stuff I ain’t gonna need?” 

While Sam understood his brother’s lack of drive to pursue formal qualifications, it didn’t mean that he shouldn’t think about it. He stood up from the chair in anger. “Well, why go all the way to the US and drag me to Stanford if you don’t want to do anything? It was your engagement that you were running away from, not mine!” 

“Maybe I should’ve left you on the Ark then.” Dean stepped closer to Sam and raised his chin. “You’re trying to dictate my life! Just like Dad!’”

Sam curled his hands into fists and took a deep breath. “Well, maybe you should have come on your own then.” Sam stalked towards the door, while Dean called out for him, but he was too enraged, so he slammed it shut and left.

**-o-**

“The hell, Cassie?! _Hitchhiking_? Running away?” came Gabriel’s irate tones through the NovaWatch that Castiel had connected to the lines in the motel. “Michael has been looking _everywhere_ for you—he’s even asking me. If Michael could somehow piggyback on the Novak wearables, he would have done it days ago. Thank god _that’s_ illegal.”

It’s good then that it was Michael who was searching and not Luke. Luke wouldn’t have let a little thing like the law stop him. Castiel busied himself by filling his glass with water, letting Gabriel finish his rant. Michael always wanted to micromanage everything in the family, _including_ his siblings. He had no doubt Gabriel was correct in his assessment. It’s why he’s in a car rather than an airship. That and Dean. But he preferred not to examine his poor life choices too closely.

Castiel was immediately sorry he’d used a projected holo. He should have activated voice only. Instead of his brother’s lecture in his ear, Castiel also got the benefit of gesticulating and pacing. 

“—do you?”

Castiel blinked at the end of the tirade. He honestly thought Gabriel would go on for longer. “I’m sorry, Gabriel, but you lost me between me following orders and the fact that I don’t give ten flying pins.”

There was a moment of stunned silence before Gabriel corrected, “‘Damn’ or ‘Fuck,’ Cassie. If you’re going to run away, at least have the proper fucking vocabulary to go with it.”

Castiel could always rely on Gabriel to focus on important things. He took a sip from his glass, knowing that he was stalling. What else could Castiel say other than he was coming? It’s not like Gabriel would understand the oppressive walls of the Novak residence. He’d left before he was utterly trapped in their lifestyle.

“You’re the only one I could turn to without Michael finding me immediately. I’ll finish the lenses there in Los Angeles, build a more streamlined operating system for what we’re using now.”

“Even when you’re running away, the only thing you talk about is our tech. You’re smarter than I am, bro. You’d think you’d have planned to escape the fam a bit more thoroughly.”. 

Gabriel was the only Novak who noticed Castiel. Their two older brothers had been intent on their one-upmanship. But Gabriel was also the brother who left Castiel to the tender mercies of their family. The small blond Novak had craved the outside world, then. He said he settled in California because of some girl. Despite this, Gabriel still worked for the Novaks in acquisitions.

Castiel has truly missed his elder brother, and he couldn’t help but feel abandoned by him despite the open invitation to visit. Well, Castiel was cashing in on that now. “Why is it that when I do it, I am running away, but when you did it, you were just finding yourself?”

“Because everyone was happy I left,” Gabriel pointed out. “Michael does not appreciate exploding pens in the office or salt for sugar in coffee during meetings. Look, we’ll talk more once you’re here. But for the love of God, hitching a ride with total strangers, Cassie? Really?”

Castiel suddenly saw this fight for what it was: Gabriel’s concern. But it also showed the inability of the entire family to realize that Castiel wasn’t nine-years-old and getting hoodwinked by some classmate to trade in his state-of-the-art watch for a regular glow-in-the-dark one that didn’t even truly glow. “Are you going to judge me for something you did yourself? Do you not want me there?”

“The offer’s still on the table.” Gabriel sighed. “At the very least, I hope you’re finally learning how to enjoy yourself on your epic road trip. Oh, and don’t forget—for bacon bars, maple bacon doughnuts, and french toast at Donut Den, I’ll happily keep Michael off your back a little while longer.”

At that, Castiel grinned. There was the Gabriel that he was looking for. It didn’t surprise him that Gabriel knew what specialty bakery was in Castiel’s vicinity to feed his cravings. The situation may have forced Gabriel to act like an older brother from time to time, but he still had a four-year-old’s sweet tooth. “I’ll see what I can come up with.”

“Let me pick you up somewhere.”

“It’s more than a day’s drive from Los Angeles. And if you leave, Michael might get suspicious.”

“A day’s drive is not really that far Stateside,” Gabriel commented. “I mean, these Americans drive two or three hours to get to work sometimes. The country is vast, so it’d be no trouble.”

Castiel had experienced that first hand, at least. He’d been on the road for two days now, something that they would have never done back in Stava. Mostly because they had an incredibly efficient train system, and the archipelago was small enough that it only took a day to walk from one end of its largest island to the other. 

“I need to go, Gabriel. Dean and Sam will be looking for me.”

Gabriel stood up with a frown, but they said their goodbyes, and Castiel snapped his fingers, closing the call on his watch. To make himself feel better about the lie, Castiel does precisely what he said he’d do. 

He knocked at Winchesters’ room to check on them and their schedule for the day. As soon as the door opened, he saw that Sam was nowhere to be found. Dean, however, had a sickly pallor, brow gleaming clammy with sweat and a hand clenched on his stomach as he collapsed onto one of the unmade beds.

Castiel entered slowly, full of concern. He felt Dean’s forehead for his temperature. He wasn’t febrile, but he looked in pain nonetheless. “I think the doughnut burger did me in,” Dean complained, clutching his belly and rolling around the bed.

If Castiel weren’t sure that Dean was in such a state of agony, he would have smiled at the picture: Dean moaning every so often, punctuated by groans of utter misery, the blankets kicked at his feet, and his shirt soaked through with sweat. “It might be the pie. Is Sam getting you medicine?”

That stopped Dean from his squirming. He covered his eyes with his arm before he shook his head no. “This all started after the dumb moose jogged. And it ain’t the pie, you’re perfectly fine.”

There was a story there, in how Dean carefully answered the question, but Castiel had no business prying—and had more significant priorities than Sam’s whereabouts. Castiel hummed for a second and accessed the small electric kettle at the corner of the desk that the motel provided. He boiled some water before stepping out to see if there was any food he could steal from the breakfast buffet.

He slipped back into Dean’s room to find him returning from vomiting at the toilet. Right. Castiel prepared tea from the hot water, presented Dean with unbuttered toast and a lone banana. Dean looked at the poor offering with distaste but ate and drank as Castiel served him.

“Aww, man, can’t you get me coffee?” Dean complained when he got a sip of the chamomile tea. “This tastes like grass.”

Castiel pushed the cup at Dean, propped up on the hotel headboard, too weak to properly refuse. “Banana, rice, apple, tea, and toast only for people with stomach flu.”

Dean persisted with the grumbling for a few seconds before he retched again, flying to the toilet to puke his meager breakfast into the porcelain. Castiel hovered in the doorway and offered the tea back and a handful of tissues.

Dean couldn’t tolerate more than a few bites of bread, so Castiel kept the beverage close to wash out the acerbic taste from his mouth. He fished fresh clothes from Dean’s bag and laid it down on the bedside table, along with a cup of tea and a half-eaten banana. There was still no sign of Sam when lunch rolled around, but Castiel saw that the cramps were lessening by the way that Dean slept through the hour with no need to run for the bathroom.

Castiel settled on the chair by the desk, kept his NovaWatch to low light, and read to pass the time until Sam arrived or Dean woke up. When he paused from reading to check on Dean, he found Dean’s green eyes on him, sleep-soft and fond.

If Castiel didn’t watch himself, he could fall easily for this man. There are very few who would offer a ride out of kindness with nothing in return, and Dean had not judged him for his awkwardness or his inability to fit in with the brothers’ dynamic.

The weight of those eyes boring into him felt like a beginning. It was a possibility if he was only brave enough to take it.

The loud grumble of Castiel’s own stomach interrupted the stare, making Dean burst into laughter. “Have you eaten yet? Doesn’t mean just ‘cuz I can only eat this crap that you have to suffer, too.”

“I was waiting for Sam to come in before I left. I’d hate to leave you here alone.” Castiel looked at his watch and noted that it was well into the afternoon. Sam had been gone the entire day. He’d known they were past check out because he’d answered the call from the front desk, reminding them of the time and the charges for an extra night. But it hadn’t sunk in just how late it was.

Dean’s smile dimmed, but he made shooing motions as he sat up. “It’s food poisoning, man. It’s gonna pass soon, and I’m feeling better already. Take care of yourself, we can’t have you getting sick. How d’you know how to do this?”

“I have a brother who eats too many sweets and is utterly unapologetic about it.” Castiel grinned, standing and stretching his back, he flipped the NovaWatch closed. When he looked at Deon, he was red in the cheeks and not meeting his gaze. “Are you sure you’re well enough for me to leave? You look flushed.”

“I’m sure,” Dean croaked. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Go, go. I need to take a long shower, anyway. The moose will probably be back soon. He went sightseeing, ‘cuz he needed some time to himself.”

Castiel frowned at what Dean wasn’t telling him, but he let it be. He left Dean only after assuring himself that the man wouldn’t keel over in a dead faint and accidentally kill himself in the bathroom, and sought a late lunch.

**-o-**

When Sam finally got over his tantrum and made his way back, he put down the pilot starter for the Chevrolet on a nearby table and cocked his head in silent question. If he noticed the rancid stench of vomit in the toilet or the motel stay extension, he didn’t comment on it.

Dean’s nausea had passed after his sleep, and the tea Castiel had forced down his throat had kept him hydrated. The cramps were gone, and he’d even managed to stomach the banana Castiel had left for him. He’d needed to clean himself because admittedly, food poisoning was not the sexiest illness, and he also hadn’t wanted Castiel around to see the fallout when Sam returned.

“You wanna visit the prison or that forest reserve?” Dean asked gruffly, ignoring the elephant in the room. It was a long drive to Stanford, and it’d be hell most of the way if half of his companions weren’t on speaking terms.

“I’ll stay here,” Sam said as Dean took the pilot lighter. Dean grunted at him and left out the door, shutting it softly.

Dean met Castiel en route to the Chevrolet and nodded at the car in invitation. Castiel stopped to squint at him, probably to check if he was over the short stint of food poisoning (he was.) Satisfied, he followed Dean and climbed into the front seat while Dean cranked the pilot light to life with his aquacasite.

Castiel was a good passenger. He didn’t protest Dean’s music choices, he wasn’t a backseat driver, and most of all, he was content to sit and soak in the tunes. He didn’t come up with endless ways to start small talk or—Christ—talk about feelings. He took up less space than Sam, both in mass and in presence, but there was still an expectant atmosphere hovering between them.

The relative silence forced Dean to reflect on his fight with Sam. At least now, he could examine it without the heat of anger.

College would be a different experience. Dean admitted that he’d wanted to go to a school in Caelum when he was younger. He’d never thought of trying for higher learning abroad and didn’t feel like he’d get in anyway. Sam had the brains, not him.

What he had a head for was puzzles—they were his favorite, even as a child. He could just about remember the proud look on John’s face when he’d come up with the solution to some problem or other. That, of course, was before his dad got the business. After that, at the tender age of four, Dean could recognize the change in his father.

It had only got worse since. John was busier still as Winchester Motors expanded; he’d spent more time running it than with his wife and two kids. Dean respected that, understood it even—they needed to eat, and John was the only one who’d provided for them. But they’re not _poor_ anymore. They had more than enough funds to live comfortably, and John still chose the company over family any day.

Though Dean might respect John for his choices, he didn’t want that for himself. He couldn’t change what was happening at home, but he could at least help Sam. Dean almost regretted his earlier words, but he really needed his brother to back off. If he wanted to go (he didn’t), then he would apply on his own. Dean would deal with the paperwork and find the money for himself. But in truth, he didn’t want to study in college.

Besides, did Sam think Stanford was free? Sam alone was already going to break their bank accounts. No matter if he got a scholarship or not, their living arrangements would be terrible.

Deciding to make good on one of his promises, Dean took Castiel to Pilcher Park. At least they had an hour or two before it finally closed down for the night.

Castiel was eager to follow the hiking trails, and the site was proud of its camping grounds. The surroundings thrilled him, and he pointed to different mushrooms and other plant life as they passed by.

Castiel’s excitement was infectious, and Dean rapidly joined in with his enthusiasm over his finds.

There was even one perfect moment where the wind blew softly. It ruffled all the surrounding leaves in a whispering symphony. The sun’s dying rays lit random spots from between the thick branches of the forest. But the beauty faded into insignificance as Dean observed Castiel.

Dean would remember this moment for the rest of his life. He inhaled sharply, the cold in the air pinching at his lungs. Castiel turned towards Dean at the sound, [a butterfly perched daintily on his hair.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21119249/chapters/50258417#workskin) The butterfly’s speckled sapphire wings perfectly highlighted the blue of Castiel’s eyes.

A fond smile curved his lips as Cas sputtered softly, his entire face lighting up, “Dean, there’s a butterfly!”

But Dean couldn’t pay attention to the words when Castiel’s lips were so close, and his breath caressed Dean’s cheek on every exhale.

Dean’s heart froze then began to pound loudly, but Castiel stopped and locked eyes with him, their bodies lingering closer.

Dean slowly brought up a hand, and it hovered in silent question. Before Castiel could form a response, Dean carefully touched the butterfly, nudging it towards his finger. Castiel looked disappointed but it was soon forgotten when Dean transferred the insect onto Castiel’s shoulder. It fluttered its wings and settled once more.

Shifting forward, Dean looked at Castiel almost shyly and skimmed his palm down Castiel’s arm until he slowly let go of his fingertips. Castiel followed Dean’s movement with his eyes until their hands parted, then he caught Dean’s wrist. Though hesitant, Castiel’s smile painted the world with color. Castiel interlocked their fingers and tugged Dean along the trail.

Dean smiled back as he returned the gesture and gripped Castiel tightly.

Oh hell, yes, he’d never forget this moment.

Too soon, Pilcher Park was closed, and he was driving back, content with the constant zing of connection when he was alone with Castiel.

Now that they were returning, Dean realized that he was about to be stuck in a motel room with a sulky brother after an unresolved fight. Impulsively, he parked at a nearby coffee shop, Castiel walking behind him. Dean figured the Chevrolet would be safe where she was, doors locked. He would even be able to see her from the inside.

A short walk later, and he had gathered two coffees, one tea and a box full of assorted donuts. Castiel stopped him as he was ordering, light grip on his wrist to get his attention, warm and not unwanted. “Are you sure you want to risk your stomach with another bout of sweets?”

Dean winked at Castiel. “You know they say, Cas, the cure to a hangover is more alcohol.”

“I don’t understand what that has to do with anything,” Castiel said, his head tilted to the side, deep in thought about the hair of the dog theories. The guy was adorable.

Catching himself, Dean felt like such a girl. So his attraction had become a little crush. But whatever, right? Nothing would happen. After this trip, they were both going their separate ways.

When he eventually knocked on the door to their room and a grumbling Sam opened it, Dean held up his goodies. Sam looked at them before his lips twitched to return a reluctant smile.

Success.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Check out Pimento's art for this!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21119249/chapters/50258417#workskin)  

> 
>   



	5. Columba: The Dove

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> > ** __ ** _The dove came to Noah in the evening; and, lo, in her mouth was an olive leaf pluckt off: so Noah knew that the waters were abated from off the earth._
>> 
>> **Genesis 8:11**

Dean’s stomach bug had been a cause for concern, so they departed Joliet early the next morning instead of their usual evening run. Castiel only won the fight by using Dean’s love for the Chevrolet’s leather against him; any barfing would definitely have left the seats worse for wear. Although the bloating from overeating sweets didn’t last long, he still worried about Dean. Especially since he refused all offers to take over driving. 

Admittedly, Castiel barely knew how to operate an automobile outside their own gated community. He’d gotten a student driver’s license several times, driven out once or twice. But he’d ultimately found that the family driver was easier on his nerves. He did offer to drive, just to be polite.

Castiel noticed that Dean tensed and kept checking the rearview mirror. He was gripping the steering wheel intermittently while frowning at the road. He’d slowed down and was looking at exits.

“Dean?” Castiel asked sleepily. Usually, after long stretches on the interstate, Dean was the only one awake, keeping his focus by listening to the low hum of the radio, sipping at a large cup of coffee from a thermal-gas stop, and the flow of the roads. Dean confessed he learned to associate driving with freedom, which was why it relaxed him. Clearly not so now, with his shoulders hunched, frowning at the mirrors.

“Someone is following us. Been on our tail since Joliet. We’re the only ones here,” Dean growled. He attempted to take the next exit, cursing when the pursuing car also signaled to follow. “Might be our dad.”

“Really?” Castiel asked, craned his head to check, and saw a black heavily tinted car behind them with New York plates. Castiel reached for his watch and switched on the settings to confirm that he still had no GRACE network connection. It was supporting the SG & T server, so it couldn’t be Michael tracking him through NovaTech, could it? “My brother is also looking for me.”

Dean and Castiel shared a glance over the mirror. The dark car was close behind them, its rumble gobbled up by the Chevrolet’s loud purr. It spoke volumes about Dean’s situational awareness that he even picked up on the car. Castiel would have ignored it. “Got something you wanna tell me, Cas?”

Castiel straightened from his seat, patting his bag. “Didn’t like my family, left Stava to breathe. They’re probably looking for me, though, as they’re control freaks.”

Dean slowed slightly and chuckled as the car passed them. He turned the wheel and pulled up the slip to return to the highway. “False alarm. Still, might have been better if I knew.”

“I’m sorry.” Although they’d been strangers when they picked Castiel up, the few motel stops and sightseeing have brought them closer. There was only so much time they could spend together before they let each other into their lives. At first, Castiel regarded this road trip as the brother’s personal journey with his own role as a tagalong. Since Joliet, he’d reconsidered. Maybe they did share it between the three of them; perhaps he wasn’t a third wheel. “I’ll remember.”

Dean shook his head as they reentered freeway. “Secrets don’t sit well with me. You don’t trust me yet, but…” he trailed off expectantly, and Castiel felt like he should fill the silence with a promise.

“I won’t keep things from you,” Castiel said earnestly before he tugged the copper suitcase onto his lap. “I have—”

“Don’t need to show me,” Dean interrupted as he slid back into the main highway. “Just tell me you didn’t kill, steal, or maim to get it.” 

“I worked hard for this,” Castiel said indignantly.

“Good to know.” Dean chuckles. “So am _I_gonna need to kill or maim for it?”

“It’s money, Dean,” Castiel said in exasperation. “Rightfully earned.” 

“The way you guarded it, I thought it might be pirate gold. You need to stop being fidgety with it,” Dean scolds. “We can hide it in Baby. You’re gonna get mugged being all shifty and shit.”

They sat in companionable silence for a while as Dean fiddled with the radio for another song. The steam-powered buildings had already petered out to stunted trees along the fallow land. They’d barely been traveling an hour when the car started listing to the side.

By the time they rolled to a stop on the shoulder, Sam, who’d been snoring lightly pressed against his window, had jerked awake. He took off his goggles to rub his eyes for a few seconds while Dean climbed out.

Castiel scrambled to follow and saw Dean was pulling out several tools.

“What’s wrong?” Castiel asked as Dean put out the reflective holos behind the car to signal oncoming traffic that they stopped. 

“Got a flat,” Dean explained as he circled the Chevrolet to find a spare, his search was rewarded when he lifted the lining on the trunk. Dean rapped the tire, testing the pressure while he muttered absentmindedly, “Could you get a rock to stop Baby from moving?”

“Baby?” Castiel asked, confused but switching on the torch from his NovaWatch to search for some on the ground. The scent of flowering weeds tickled his nose as he walked off the road.

When he rounded the car, Castiel found that Sam already had what they needed in one hand, his phone in the other. “He’s taken to calling the Chevrolet ‘Baby’,” Sam explained, as he lodged his stone against the curve of a wheel to prevent the heavy car from rolling.

Right, Castiel has known crew to personify their boats, but apparently, any vehicle will do. “You fix a lot of flat tires?” Castiel asked as he watched them, feeling useless as the brothers worked efficiently together once they got the hang of what was needed.

“Mostly tractors, but we have a hydraulic jack for that and ballast,” Dean explained, while he loosened bolts. “Working on Baby is a walk in the park compared to that.”

Sam was fiddling with a mechanical arm that had been with the spare tire, fitting it to his size. When he was satisfied, he used the contraption to augment his strength and lift the car, freeing the wheel. Once done, the mechanism detached from Sam’s shoulder and converted as a jack that propped the vehicle.

Castiel found a small edge on the road and sat on the asphalt, feeling the heat rising while watching the brothers. Dean had removed his leather jacket and vest when he’d started the job, and intermittently swiped a hand across his forehead. It did not help Castiel’s sanity any. The man was practically naked! One did not go out in just a white shirt! 

Giving surreptitious glances at the two, he compared them. Sam had a much more defined musculature than Dean, but it was Dean that Castiel couldn’t resist ogling. He swallowed hard as Dean retrieved the spare from the trunk, his muscles bulged with the effort. Okay, Castiel should focus on other things. Like Dean’s bowlegs. 

The brothers had the tire changed, the Chevrolet repacked, and everyone sat back inside in record time Dean wiped his hands with a rag. 

“You work really well together,” Castiel commented.

Dean grunted, but Sam had the faintest of smiles. “Yeah, we had a lot of projects in Stava, Dean and I.”

When their stops were few and far between, the brothers began bickering more. It showed familiarity and fondness that Castiel had only ever found with Gabriel. But, they’d been on the road for several hours now, and yet the drive had been unusually empty of the brother’s usual banter. The music was blaring unnaturally loud—or louder than Dean typically set it, anyway.

“Is everything all right?” Castiel asked, tentatively. Dean grunted, and Sam looked away. 

“Tire’s gonna last us until Sioux Falls, but we should probably do a full look-see once we reach Bobby’s,” Dean assessed. 

It wasn’t what Castiel was asking, and it seemed like he wouldn’t be getting an answer soon. Castiel settled on the backseat watching the brothers, Dean turning the radio down so he could rest.

In the space between wakefulness and fully asleep, Cas heard Sam say, “I think Castiel has a point, don’t you? We work better together.”

Dean scoffed. “Ain’t contradicting the guy.”

“Are you really going to stay mad at me? We have a ways to go before we reach Stanford,“ Sam said softly. “It was just an idea, Dean. You don’t have to follow my suggestion, but you do need to think of future plans. You can’t just wait for a path to be carved for you.”

“Ain’t smart enough to make plans. I’ll support you through school. Get odd jobs around the area.”

“In a college town? Without a working permit? How’s that gonna work out for you, huh?”

“Plenty of people cross the border—not just us—and _they_ find work. There’s always menial labor.”

Castiel didn’t understand the undercurrent between the brothers. He has always gotten the idea that Dean had been doing this for the experience. That he aimed to go to Palo Alto, but his motive was leaving the closed-in life of a mining ship, not reaching a destination. The Chevrolet’s rumble and the long drive had lulled him to sleep before he could think more about it.

**-o-**

Dean cursed the bumpy roads around Sioux Falls, and for the hundredth time, thanked Sam for navigating. They arrived in South Dakota before it was fully dark, but the sun was already nearing nadir, ready to set.

“Take a left here,” Sam said suddenly, pointing to a decrepit sign painted with ‘Singer Auto Salvage.’ Dean had to slam on the brakes to make the turn, thanking his lucky stars he _had_ slowed down because he hit more than a few rocks on the entrance to the gravel road. 

The short dirt track brought them to an older-looking house attached to a garage to its left and straggling rows upon rows of broken-cars, their hoods gaping open, engines emptied, parts scattered all around the yard. 

Dean instantly recognized Bobby, the man who supplied _Mary’s Ark_ with rare spare parts. He looked relaxed but alert, his tweed flat cap sat firmly on his head. His eyes narrowed as he examined the Chevrolet, hand loose on the shotgun over his knee. 

Sam was silent, mouth agape at Bobby and his dog. 

The black hound was chained to a light blue truck that was parked beside the porch. This must be Rumsfeld, the companion Bobby talked about so fondly when he came to them on business. He was gigantic compared to the man standing next to him, his growl low and drool falling from his chops. 

Dean removed his goggles and looked at Castiel, only to find the steady blue gaze stuck on him.

“You coming?” he asked him softly. Castiel gave him a small nod before he reached forward and planted a reassuring hand on Dean’s shoulder.

They all stepped out of the car, the scent of rusted metal hit Dean, snapping him back to all the times he had worked on engines at home. He nodded at Bobby, who still had a firm grip on his shotgun. The crotchety old man hadn’t changed a bit since the last time they saw him when he had deposited an R30 engine that’d been scrapped for parts. They’d fixed it up and put it into a failing steam generator in Belo. 

“You boys hungry?” 

“Yes, sir,” Dean answered, stopping to stand near the man.

“Don’t call me sir, boy. I ain’t that old.” Bobby snorted and adjusted his hat. “I wasn’t told about no other passengers neither.” His grip on the gun tightened.

Dean placed himself in front of Castiel. “We’re heading the same direction, so we offered him a ride.” 

Bobby eyed the two once more before he looked away with a grunt. “Fine. Come in, then. Guess you’ll be stayin’ the night, huh?” He turned with a nod and headed inside.

Sam and Dean shared a glance while Castiel planted a hand at Dean’s lower back.

“Y’all comin’?” Bobby called from the house.

“Yeah,” Dean said absently as he followed towards the entrance.

Once past the threshold, Dean was assailed with the aroma of roasted beef.

“I doubt you’ve had a good meal on the road. Come eat,” Bobby demanded, setting an extra plate for Castiel before taking his place at the head of the table.

Dean’s mouth filled with drool as he eyed the food. Either Bobby knew his way around a kitchen, or he had someone great cooking for him.

“Y’all can bring in yer clothes and have showers if ya’ want, but try not to use all my hot water. The thing don’t work right if it’s empty. Got two rooms upstairs for ya’. First doors, up the stairs. Take yer pick,” Bobby said while waving his fork in that direction before turning to Castiel. “Figure you can find a place to bed down.”

“That’s perfectly fine,” Castiel said with a nod. “Thank you.”

After savoring dinner, Dean excused himself from the table. “I’m gonna go outside for a bit before I hit the hay. Thanks for the help, Bobby.” He headed out the front door before Bobby could get a word in edgewise.

The night was cloudless, and there was little to no steam to hamper the view. He wanted to pull out the astronomy book and match its pages with the evening sky.

**-o-**

Bobby’s house was everything Castiel dreamed of when he imagined his own future home. Not the salvage yard, but the books. There were books _everywhere,_ from manuals to fiction to folklore to machines. You couldn’t move without hitting your shin on the cover of some yellowing volume or other. 

His own room would be much the same if his mother didn't insist on throwing out all the ‘clutter,’ as she’d called it. It became his first project after designing the NovaWatch: support for holobooks. It might not replace the feel of paper, but it was near to a real reading experience as Castiel could make it. The program went through the motions of turning a page but could be turned off per preference.

Castiel trailed his finger over an Enochian Dictionary, missing the feel of paper. Movement on Bobby’s porch distracted him from investigating further, though.

The evening was mild, though colder than the temperatures they were used to in Stava. Dean stood at the edge of the veranda, his book open on the wooden railing. When Castiel saw it was his gift, he stepped lightly over the rough boards, smiling that Dean treasured it enough to use.

“Stars aren’t as bright here as out in the Atlantic Ocean,” Dean confessed, intent on tracing the constellations. “I can barely find the North Star.”

“Too many engine-powered machines and city lights,” Castiel acknowledged, and Dean must have not realized he was close because he shuddered slightly, his eyes closing at the words. 

Castiel was abruptly reminded that he would not see this man beyond this trip. That once they reached California, they’d part ways. Dean off to Palo Alto, and Castiel with his brother in Los Angeles. He suddenly couldn’t bear the thought that their time would end without acknowledging this potential.

His fingers twitched, catching Dean’s attention.

“You okay, Cas?” he asked as he reached for Castiel’s shoulder, rubbing little circles with his thumb.

Castiel swallowed, blues stared into green, body angled forward.

Dean’s twisted away, eyes widened in surprise, and Castiel landed lips on the corner of his mouth. Not knowing where his arms should go, there was an awkward twist of limbs before he stopped moving. It was quite possibly more embarrassing than when he and Inias fumbled their way through experimenting in college.

Castiel pulled away, but Dean placed his hand on Castiel’s nape to stop him. He slanted them together until what had been Castiel’s artless attempt slotted into slow, easy kisses. Dean tasted very much like the bottle of beer served over dinner, and he couldn’t get enough of it.

Castiel had only been kissed three times. Once when his childhood friend, Meg, decided to teach him what a real kiss was. Then with Inias, when they were young and finding out about themselves. Lastly, with Balthazar, because the man took kisses the same as he did trophies and freighter ships. 

This made those pale in comparison. Dean kissed like Castiel was his world, and they wouldn’t meet again. He kissed like it was a goodbye and hello all at once. When they parted with small gasps of breath between them, Dean cupped Castiel’s cheeks and rubbed his thumb under his eye. “Hey, why the long face?”

Castiel buried himself in the crook of Dean’s neck. He breathed in the scent of leather and Dean before he answered, “I think it’s selfish of me to want this.”

“Oh, sweetheart, we could be selfish together,” Dean confessed against his ear, dropping a chaste kiss on its shell. His hand had found its way down Castiel’s back, smoothing small circles, leaving heat wherever it touched. Castiel allowed Dean’s kisses and touches to seduce him. He swayed towards Dean as he eased Castiel into each caress.

Somehow, they managed to make it up the stairs, necking and rutting and swallowing each other’s groans as they tried to stumble quietly to Dean’s room. They weren’t sure if they achieved the quiet part, but they entered through the right door, landing roughly on Dean’s bed. Castiel straddled him as Dean sat down and began to remove Castiel’s shirt.

Castiel slammed the offending hand down against the sheets. He moaned as he nuzzled Dean’s throat, grinding against the answering hardness he found there. They both groaned at the contact, and Castiel demanded, “What is it you think you’ll do to me?” 

When Castiel stopped to look at Dean, his pupils were blown wide, and he was breathing hard, his hands clenched on the edge of the bed. “I think I’ll do whatever you want me to,” Dean answered. 

Castiel felt the power behind it, intoxicated that Dean was allowing him to dictate the pace of their encounter. He rolled his hips, finding friction against the growing bulge in Dean’s trousers, his heart beating frantically. Castiel gazed at Dean, sighing as those plump lips nipped at his exposed collar. 

Castiel was vibrating with need and want. He could barely get the buttons to function, and Dean was letting him fumble with their clothes while he explored the skin available to his mouth. When Castiel got their cocks in the open, the flesh meeting for the first time, he had to bite down on Dean’s shoulder to quiet the cry that attempted to escape.

He hadn’t realized that it would be this exquisite, their joining, no matter that it was just hands and lips and grinding against each other. Castiel tipped them both over, tumbling into the bed that was cramped enough for Dean alone. 

Dean’s palms flattened over Castiel’s ass, sliding up his spine then moving back down, kneading the globes of muscle. Castiel’s body rocked to gain contact and friction, undulating above Dean. Castiel gasped as they pushed against each other. 

With only the low light of his watch, Dean was resplendent. His eyes were trained on Castiel, his neck and cheeks flushed. Dean was a mess of soft pants and muttered utter nonsense.

Dean closed a fist on both of their erections, and Castiel dropped his head uselessly beside Dean’s, as he chased his release. “Dean, _Dean._”

The answering whisper was fervent, “I’m right here, sweetheart.” 

And that was enough for Castiel; he felt loved and _seen_. His orgasm overcame him, and he sank all of his weight on Dean. Useless, limbless, as Dean continued to press their shafts together before he stiffened and spilled over his own hand.

A post-orgasm lethargy took hold of Castiel as he rolled beside Dean, as he tried to make their bodies fit. Dean chuckled and wiped his sticky hand on his shirt before he disappearing and coming back with wet towels. Castiel batted the cloth away, both overwhelmed and oversensitive, but Dean overrode the protest with gentle swipes, cleaning him. “You’ll thank me in the morning.”

They were both still fully dressed, aside from their open flies, but Dean’s flannel was skewed to reveal a red impression where Cas had eagerly bitten into his shoulder. 

A wave of possessiveness swept Castiel at the sight. No matter if they parted ways, Castiel had marked his man. It might fade, but the claim was there. He traced the inflamed area as Dean cleaned and undressed them both, tucking them into the too-small bed.

“I’ll thank you now,” Castiel answered and skimmed his lips over the collarbone before he fell asleep in Dean’s arms.

**-o-**

Dean woke up between the wall and Castiel, pleasantly flush against the other man’s ass.

He nuzzled his face into Castiel’s nape and brushed his lips delicately over his skin—just enough to get a taste. He scratched Castiel’s stomach lightly as he pressed close. Castiel inhaled deeply, sighing as he stirred.

Dean chuckled hoarsely and skated his fingers up Castiel’s chest before he flicked a nipple with his thumb. Castiel’s breath stuttered and Dean hummed his appreciation as he rutted against Castiel.

It was so easy to get addicted to this.

He groaned when Castiel reached behind him and gripped Dean’s hair tightly. Dean got the hint and rubbed Castiel through the boxer shorts that he hadn’t shucked off the night before. 

Castiel jerked at the contact, arching his back in pleasure. Dean got a sloppy, morning breath filled kiss for his efforts.

“Mmm, Dean.” Castiel rolled his hips to gain contact. 

The door creaking open broke the spell between them. They simultaneously froze, eyes shooting to where Sam stood. The younger Winchester was looking everywhere but at them.

“Uh, breakfast is, uh, ready,” he stammered, then slammed the door before his footsteps lead down the hallway.

Castiel stayed on the bed, arm over his eyes. Mortification was written all over him. He pulled the covers over his head, and Dean chuckled as he sat up.

“Guess that’s one way to take care of that, huh.” Dean jerked the blanket away and pressed a kiss to Castiel’s forehead. His face was still flushed, with his ears turning an adorable pink.

Dean gave another kiss to his burning cheek before he clambered from the bed, shamelessly naked as he stretched. A quick glance showed that the embarrassed blush on Castiel was giving way to dark-eyed lust as he focused intently on Dean. 

Dean smirked but bent down to get out his clothes for the day, and absentmindedly reminded himself that they were running low on underwear. 

Castiel yawned as he stood up, his spine curved as he moved to help Dean. 

If Sam hadn’t just walked in on them and expected them for breakfast, they would have taken their time for another round. As it was, they lingered while dressing before they headed downstairs.

When they finally arrived in the kitchen, the aroma of bacon instantly perked Dean up. He ignored Sam’s blushing because his brother should damn well learn to knock.

Bobby rolled his eyes at all three and muttered, “Idjits.”

Dean slid into the seat he had chosen yesterday; Castiel sat to his right with his plate full. With a squeeze to Castiel’s knee, Dean started on his eggs.

“Thanks for letting us use the Chevrolet,” Dean said as he chewed. “How should we get her back to you once we reach California?”

Bobby scratched his beard as he informed them, “She’s yours. A gift from your mama.”

“Mom?” Sam and Dean asked at the same time.

“I recall when yer daddy came here. He was a regular visitor when their business was getting started, sourcing engine parts roundabouts. He brought Mary once and saw the way she adored that car.” Bobby had an unfocused gaze and a smile as he recounted the story. “When he could finally afford her, he done and bought ‘er, putting time to fix ‘er. She’d been in a wreck before your daddy worked on her as a gift to Mary.”

Dean looked down at his plate and swallowed around the thickness in his throat. Sometimes he forgot the good things he’d left behind with the bad, but then his mom’s kindness and the Chevrolet would always be reminders.

Castiel stroked his thumb over Dean’s in solidarity before he brushed some crumb or the other from Dean’s cheek. It earned him a smile.

Bobby put down his fork. “So, what’s in California for you Winchesters?”

Castiel’s knife clattered on his plate before he stammered an apology. Dean eyed Castiel but found that the man firmly avoided his gaze, eyes wide and face pale.

When it looked like Dean and Castiel wouldn’t be answering, Sam piped up. “Stanford University.” He sent a sly glance Dean’s way, but Dean was barely paying attention to Sam, carefully watching Castiel instead.

“Y’all plan on studyin’?” Bobby asked in surprise.

“I am,” Sam answered as he straightened from his slouch, pushing back his shoulders.

Dean pointed his fork at Sam. “Don’t.”

“Dean doesn’t want to, but I think he should take some classes with me,” Sam said, his jaw set, his fists clenched over his utensils. 

The little _shit_. He’d kept quiet the entire trip over because he _knew_ he wasn’t gonna win against Dean alone. Sam waited to drop this bomb at breakfast with Cas and Bobby. 

A tic was starting on Dean’s forehead. “Damn it, Sam. I told you to let it go.” 

Sam turned his burning glare to his plate.

There was a moment of tense silence before Castiel spoke up. “Why not?” His face was carefully blank.

Dean narrowed his eyes. “You’re not gonna start on me too, are you?”

Castiel looked between the brothers. “A college education is useful, Dean. You should consider it at the very least.”

Dean jerked in his chair, left the table, and headed to the garage. 

Dean was still within range when he overheard Sam tell Cas, “He probably needs to be alone for a bit.”

Outside, Dean opened Baby’s hood and stared blankly into her engine block. The smell of motor oil and grease reminded him of work back home, and he lost himself in its familiarity.

He was four when his dad started Winchester Motors. John had realized that the aquacasite was more potent fresh and used that knowledge to venture out on his own. Mom had brought Dean aside and told him they were struggling to stay afloat. His parents sold the house and all their belongings, and moved them to _Mary’s Ark _to start the business away from the overbearing influence of Samuel Campbell. 

Mom said she and Dad worked hard so he and Sam could study and eat. The family couldn’t go to the park as they did before they moved, and they’d have to scrimp on toys. In Dean’s impressionable young mind, that meant that it was his duty to take care of his little brother so his parents could concentrate on the business.

They’d grown up, Sam didn’t need minding anymore, and they weren’t exactly living hand-to-mouth. Winchester Motors was a government contractor with businesses all over Stava. They mined their own aquacasite and built it in-house—or rather, in-ship.

But Dean never really outgrew taking care of Sam. 

His duty was to bring Sam to college. After that? Who knows? He planned to grab whatever job he could get and work to support Sam through school. Dean could give Sam the freedom to concentrate on his studies while he focused on keeping a roof over their heads and food in the kitchen. _That’s_ what he needed to do.

All this bullshit about _him_ going to class? He could pick up anything mechanical and take it apart only to put it back together, working twice as well as before he’d tinkered with it. He’s _good_ at what he does. He doesn’t need some fancy school to tell him what he already knows.

It took a few minutes, but he heard the creak of the front door. His shoulders tensed. Why did someone follow him out here? He needed to be _alone_, damn it. He angrily continued checking the fluid levels.

“Dean?” 

Dean firmly ignored Castiel’s plea.

He usually wouldn’t be so cold, but _fuck it all_, did Cas have to side with Sam? Why couldn’t Cas be on _his_ side?

Dean counted down the seconds before he began to hear slow steps come toward him.

“Are you okay?” Castiel asked as he approached, eyeing the Dean’s face carefully. 

What did Castiel mean, ‘okay’? Dean went back to tinkering with the engine, checked the steam valves one at a time, careful of the ceramics.

Castiel moved to the side of the Chevrolet and tried to gain eye contact. When that didn’t work, he reached out tentatively. 

Dean shot him a glare that made Castiel recoil from its frank hostility_. _Dean thought he would give up, but he’d underestimated Castiel’s stubborn streak. 

Castiel stayed on, staring unblinkingly at Dean’s useless attempts to be productive.

“What do you want from me, Cas?” Dean snarled. “Sam can’t take classes _and_ get a job. I can’t support him if I’m busy studying for some unnecessary degree.”

Castiel shut down; his jaw relaxed, his face now carefully, purposefully blank. “Dean, Sam is a grown man. He should decide for himself whether or not he wants to be looked after.” 

Dean scoffed and faced away. 

Sam _is_ an adult, but he had to watch out for his brother. It’s not a choice that Sam should have to make because Dean has already borne it. Sam’s role was to go to college, Dean’s was to support him. There was nothing to _decide_.

A vein pulsed across Dean’s temple in time with the rapid beating of his heart. “You don’t understand,” he said through gritted teeth. “He’s _my_ responsibility.”

“No, it’s you who doesn’t understand. Sam isn’t a child. He is capable and _needs_ to be accountable for his own person. Why can’t you see that?” Castiel tilted his head and looked at Dean with slightly widened eyes. 

“Because I _should_ do it, not him! I’m the only one who _can._ If you had a younger brother, you’d get it! Have you ever had the responsibility of someone on your shoulders? I bet you haven’t.” He barely took a breath as he let the torrent out. “You’re from Caelum, all shiny and golden. I bet you’ve had a silver spoon stuck in your mouth since the day you were born! You’ve never been in the ghettos of Gehenna, and you’ve never needed to make do!”

A stony silence fell while Dean resolutely ignored the hurt radiating off Castiel. After a few tense seconds, he walked away with, “You’re an ass, Dean Winchester.” 

Dean squeezed his eyes shut, trying to breathe deeply. 

_Goddammit. _

He took a step after Castiel, but the man had already disappeared into the house. 

There went his good ‘morning-after’ mood.

**-o-**

It was none of Castiel’s business. It was a fight between brothers, and he was just Dean’s passing flirtation. Possibly even less than that. He shouldn’t have said anything. 

Castiel came back to Dean’s temporary room to cram his things together into his suitcase while he thought. 

Michael always stressed that Castiel couldn’t maintain his relationships because he was too awkward; that he put his nose in where it was not wanted, and he spoke his mind when he should keep quiet. Spoke his mind? He barely contradicted anyone. He was a veritable mouse! But if Dean was going to shove him away, just like everyone else, he needed to leave before that happened. 

He forcefully thrust his shirt into the bag. He’d left it out intending to wash his clothes—especially after the way he soiled them last night. Well, no time to do his laundry now. 

The room still reeked of musk and sex, the bed haphazardly made. It left Castiel cold, his chest aching at a loss he should have prepared for the moment he laid eyes on Dean Winchester. It was imperative to get away from this emotional implosion. 

He shook his wrist once to activate Nova, the inline holo for his watch, before asking, “Map bus routes to Los Angeles.”

“GRACE network access is forbidden by the user. Triangulating via local radio transmitters,” Nova answered. 

It was his cousin Anna who recorded all of Nova’s responses, but Castiel could still hear hints of robotic tones that distinguished Nova’s voice from the real thing. He should tweak the cadence better when he had the time, but the lenses were his current priority, and he rarely used the holo interface anyway. 

That’s right, he should think about work. And not… whatever this room embodies. 

“I found seven routes to Los Angeles, California. There is only one that uses the bus as sole transport. It requires three transfers and a 3.3-kilometer drive from the current location,” Nova finally supplied.

“Project the directions for the first bus stop onto the path.” 

The holo shone as an arrow on the floor. The watch buzzed against Castiel’s arm as he finished packing, notifying him that he needed to turn to follow Nova’s instructions. 

Thank god he’d charged it at the previous motel’s steam engine—he didn’t have the sense to do it last night. It was a good thing too that his suitcase was light and he didn’t bring the wardrobe-trunk. He’d be able to carry it to the first stop. “Change mode of transport from drive to walk.” 

With one last glance at the bed, Castiel snapped the latches of his bag. He had run out of things to put in it. He’d only had the bare minimum when he fled the country: his passport, his watch, clothes, and the prototype lenses. There was nothing else to pack. 

He carried it by the handles as he softly closed the door. It was better that Castiel left while Dean was still in the first flush of anger. When Dean eventually learns that they’re _engaged_, that Castiel _ran away_ from him, and kept that knowledge to himself when he did find out, the fallout would be much worse. Not that Dean looked like he wanted to return to Stava for the wedding, anyway. He was dead set on staying at Stanford with his brother.

That’s right, Dean had absconded this engagement, too. It’s best to leave now before it gets any harder. He has to end this burgeoning relationship before Dean realized that Castiel isn’t who he appeared to be. Castiel is incompetent without his family’s backing, he’s a liar and a fraud.

Bobby looked at Castiel from the porch as he stepped out into the yard, his battered cap pulled low over his eyes. 

“Thank you for the hospitality, Mr. Singer.”

Bobby raised the bill of his cap to consider him. “You leavin’ that boy?”

“I was under the impression that ‘that boy’ doesn’t want my company,” Castiel retorted, adjusting the bag and attempting to still the shaking in his hands.

Bobby harrumphed his indignation but let Castiel pass. 

The more Castiel walked, the more he was convinced that he chose the right path. Being in a relationship allowed people to manipulate you—his parents and brothers had taught him that. Dean was just another person who would have expectations that he couldn’t hope to reach. Just another opportunity for him to be a disappointment. He’d just gotten out of the inner roads from the salvage yard and onto the busier streets leading to the highway. 

A car door creaked behind Castiel. It said something for his state of mind that he hadn’t noticed the Chevrolet’s distinct rumble. And it wasn’t until two worn boots were planted in his way that he startled out of his thoughts.

Castiel followed the boots to baggy jeans, several layers of flannel, and green eyes. His vision blurred, and Castiel blinked away the fogginess of unshed tears. He took a deep breath to stop himself from crying.

He was appalled. Novak men did not _cry._ And certainly not over a not-really-fiancé they’d jilted before they even met. “Excuse me,” Castiel had wanted to say. Except it only came out as a pained whine which ended on a soft exhale. 

Before he could turn away so the embarrassing tears wouldn’t show, Dean had wrapped his arms around Castiel’s shoulder. “Why are you crying, huh? I’m the dumbass here.”

“I have sand in my eye,” Castiel hiccuped. “It was a family argument. I shouldn’t have an opinion. I’m just a stray you picked up on the road.”

“I think you’re slightly more than a stray, Cas. Don’t you know? Family don’t end in blood. And you can’t walk all the way to Los Angeles,” Dean said reasonably, stroking Castiel’s hair.

“I was taking the steam bus.” Castiel thought he was soaking Dean’s shirt with both snot and tears, but Dean wouldn’t let him escape the circle of his arms

“You and your bus obsession. We talked about this. Those are contortionist seats. People die in those things. I’ll drive you to Los Angeles. Stop trying to leave me.” Dean stepped back and wiped Castiel’s cheeks with his thumb. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, I… Sam just means so much to me, has been my whole world for so long, there didn’t seem to be a point to wanting anything else.”

“I have three older siblings. They’re overbearing toads that think I can’t survive on my own.”

The statement startled a laugh out of Dean. “Toad? You really have it down in the insult department.”

“I’m a Novak,” Castiel blurted the confession in one syllable, words tripping over each other. 

“No, shit? When I said you had a silver spoon from birth, I thought we were talking about private schools since forever, snooty gated neighborhoods. I didn’t mean it like you owned the entire school _and_ the snooty neighborhood to boot. Damn, I should have asked you to pay for all our rooms.”

Castiel bit his cheek. Dean didn’t know they were engaged. Castiel had already used up all his courage in giving up his name; he didn’t have it in him to say any more. He didn’t think he could stand another shouting match so close to the last one. 

“Sam said you like bees. So there’s this bee farm we drove past going here.”

Dean had chosen a good distraction. 

No matter that it was the exact tactic that Dean used after the fair, Castiel found himself repeating, “an apiary?”

Dean ushered Castiel to the passenger seat. “Yeah, that. Come on, we’ll drive there now.”

**-o-**

The slam of the car doors reverberated through Dean as he settled. The engine was still running, and he cranked it up to fill the silence. Castiel fidgeted on the soft leather of the front bench, tugging on the hem of his shirt while tracing the etched tree on his ever-present suitcase. The cool breeze that flowed through the Chevrolet’s open windows as they drove ruffled Castiel’s hair, but he looked content to hide behind the stray wisps.

Good thing _Honey Helpers_ was just a fifteen-minute drive, or Dean would have throttled the car in anxiety or would have dropped to his knees to beg for forgiveness. Both would have been a bad idea. 

Was it only last night that he’d touched this man? It seemed like forever. Dean closed his eyes against the memories. 

Thankfully, Sam had given him a piece of his mind when Bobby announced that Cas had taken off. He’d suggested the bee farm. Good old Sam, who had his back despite being mad over Stanford.

When Castiel climbed out of the Chevrolet, he gripped the suitcase once before he let it go, and left it in his seat. Dean didn’t comment, but he counted the little display of trust as a win.

The farm was on an extensive plot of land surrounded by a wooden fence. In the distance, they could see a white house with stained glass windows of bees in traditional hives. Someone had carefully mown the front yard and planted lavender in regimented flower beds. A sign close to the road read ‘Keep Off the Grass.’ The stone walkway had another that said to be careful of bees. 

Dean kept crossing and uncrossing his arms, trying not to attract the bees’ attention. He heard them buzz around him. They were _everywhere._ Castiel was unnaturally still, lips parted, eyes darting from side to side as if he couldn’t decide which bee to follow first. Dean would happily tolerate standing this close to the flying, stinging monsters if they put that smile on Cas’ face again.

Dean grabbed Castiel’s hand before he could move. “Are we okay?” he asked, trying to read those baby blues.

“Of course, Dean.” He became quieter and then blew out his cheeks before dropping his forehead on Dean’s shoulder. “Please don’t take your anger out on me again,” he mumbled.

Dean hated this part, but he gave Castiel’s arm a reassuring squeeze. “I’ll try, Cas. At least, you know I have a temper, now,” he joked, but it fell flat. Castiel looked at him through his eyelashes, his eyes narrowed before Dean straightened and intertwined their fingers. “I promise I’ll try. If it happens again, just give me some space, okay?” 

Castiel’s lips brushed Dean’s shirt before he smiled. “Can we go see the bees now? You _did_ bring me here to apologize, didn’t you?”

Dean laughed, momentarily forgetting everything else but Castiel’s enthusiasm, he put his hand on Castiel’s lower back and lead him to the door.

A soft ‘ding’ greeted them when they entered. Melted sugar mixed with butter assaulted Dean’s senses and had Dean salivating even before he spotted the glass cases filled with baked goods. Tables set with doilies dotted the room, sprigs of lavender in rustic pottery at their centers.

A woman walked up from the desk, causing Dean’s attention to snap to her. She was pretty with reddish-brown hair and blue eyes. Her black and yellow shirt clung to her petite frame and a badge that read ‘Bee Sweet! I’m Josie!’ was pinned just beside the lowest open button. Any other day, he would have sent an interested flirtation her way, but he was finding out that those urges were coming few and far between. 

“Welcome to _Honey Helpers_! We have everything from cakes and pies to candles and soaps! Feel free to look around. If you’re curious about how we work, we also offer an apiary tour with our founder, Cain.” 

Dean scratched his jaw, trying to decide what to do, but Castiel was already leaning forward. “How long is the tour?”

Dean couldn’t resist joining in with Castiel’s happiness. He _really_ did owe Sam.

“Thirty minutes to an hour. You could rent a beekeeper’s veil and gloves for the full experience,” she offered. 

Dean touched Castiel’s elbow lightly to get his attention. “Cas, I’m gonna stick around here. You go commune with the bees or something.”

Castiel smiled, all teeth and gums. Dean thought it was the equivalent of a little girl squealing and giggling. “I’d like to see the hives, please,” he said to Josie. 

Dean continued to explore the room when they left.

But Castiel had taken the excitement and happiness with him, leaving Dean to brood alone with his thoughts. 

Dean hated that he’d gotten so angry at Bobby’s. But Sam knew how to push his buttons, and he _hadn’t_ wanted to take it out on Cas, it just… happened. It wasn’t fair, and Dean’s throat constricted as he uncomfortably remembered his behavior. After Sam said his piece on the entire Cas fiasco, Bobby had given him a long stare before finally reminding him: Family don’t end in blood, boy.

He hadn’t realized he’d adopted Cas as part of their family until Bobby said those words. 

Dean shook his head to stop himself from spiraling. He saw cakes, pies (he definitely picked up some pie slices for later), honeysuckers, and multiple flavors of hard candy. They had to have souvenirs somewhere. He wandered around until he found the shelves with yellow and black curios. Dean bought Castiel a postcard and a canvas satchel with leather straps.

When Castiel returned, he was with a man, presumably, Cain, dressed all in white with a beekeeper veil tucked under his arm. He was rubbing his peppered beard at something that Castiel said. 

Face breaking into an even wider smile when he saw Dean, Castiel grabbed his arm to say, “Raw honey is _so much_ _better_ than those bears they sell in Stava. The bees just thrive on alfalfa here, so it’s kind of grassy. I can’t wait to see what other flavors there are.” 

Cain clapped Castiel on the back, his blue eyes crinkled at Castiel’s animated babbling.

Dean hastily handed the items he bought to Castiel, who turned over the messenger bag, to examine the bright bee clasp. “So you don’t have to lug your heavy suitcase around. You could just keep all the important things in there.”

The answering smile was nothing short of brilliant. It was joy captured and painted, kept in that one moment.


	6. Reticulum: The Reticle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> > _Mom fixed a “reticle” in the telescope today! It’s easier to find Polaris with it. Dad says it’s cheating, but he was laughing and using it. I think it’s gonna stay._
>> 
>> **Journal of a young Dean Winchester **

Castiel noticed that Dean became conscientious of his needs as they drove on. They stopped more frequently, and they lingered. They were no longer running to California but meandering towards it. 

The three didn’t fight about Stanford again, but they didn’t talk about it either. Instead, they filled their days chasing the finish line but dragging their feet to get there. 

Sometimes Castiel thought of his engagement, and he would attempt to confess. But Dean would send him a soft gaze or laugh at his awkwardness, and Castiel would lose confidence. He didn’t want to waste what time he had left with the green-eyed man. He’d never felt the pressure of their destination more than he did when he looked at Dean and wondered: _what if?_

But the thought of losing Dean was more frightening than Dean’s anger. So he kept silent. In his darkest moments, he speculated what went through his mother’s mind when she agreed to the match. To give away one of her sons to someone who _worked_ for a living. She must have been livid for days. But power was power, and Naomi had always been more pragmatic than she was haughty, although admittedly not by much.

They traveled through Kansas, which, when Castiel checked, was nowhere near the fastest route to Palo Alto. Dean had demanded they stop by a water park in the area, and they had chased each other like children across the pools. While they were there, they might as well pass by Kaw Point Park and Parkville Nature Sanctuary. 

They camped at Kaw Point and learned about roasting marshmallows. Castiel never knew the sweet could become nutty and buttery, and the additional crisp outside was a bonus. Once they’d stuffed themselves, they slept on the dirt floor. It wasn’t one of their best ideas. 

Thankfully, mosquitoes were less abundant in the temperate climate than their tropical islands. Up to this point, they hadn’t missed the bug spray that they didn’t have, but Castiel intermittently rubbed the few bumps he’d acquired during their stay to soothe the itch. 

“Where’d you study?” Dean asked, hands folded behind his back as he stared at the night sky. Sam was snoring in the car, having won the right to sleep in it by virtue of rock-paper-scissors. It left Dean and Castiel on the hard ground, on the all-weather blanket they’d used to protect the Chevrolet’s hood when they had their firework picnic. 

While they might not talk about Stanford, they talked about everything else. “Cornell,” Castiel answered, powering down his watch so he could give Dean his full attention.

Dean whistled. “My parents homeschooled me.” That further explained his reluctance to attend college. 

“Name something you can’t build,” Castiel asked. He’d seen Dean dismantling a radio, an old NovaTel phone, the freaking _carburetor._ Dean had then put each back together again easily. He was a genius.

“Lotsa things. But won’t know until I got my hands on them.” Dean winked at Castiel, which caused him to blush. Castiel wondered when he would get over the frequent reddening of his cheeks. “I have a good one. Which of your family members would you die for?”

Castiel grimaced, they’d taken to playing twenty questions to pass the time, and cram all the things that lovers learned over whispers that they would never have. Castiel had hoarded his and asked them in moments like these, but Dean still surprised him with his insight. 

“I’m not…” Castiel trailed off. In the distance, a coyote howled at the moon. His eyes swung to the trees, shivering. “My father, maybe? Gabriel?”

Dean hummed in reply. “Don’t sound awfully sure there, Cas.”

“Who would _you_ pick?”

“Don’t have to. I’d die for any of them,” Dean answered readily. Loyal, unselfish Dean, who’d immediately give up his sandwich to Sam if his younger brother grumbled about being hungry. Dean, who spent nothing on himself but lavishes Castiel with baubles and Sam with various souvenirs. “What do you do if your family doesn’t approve of a decision you’ve made?”

“I’m still trying to figure that out. This is the first rebellious thing I’ve ever done,” Castiel admitted haltingly. He shivered, the fire already banked down to low embers, the scents of charred meat long replaced by ash.

“Riding across America with a bunch of strangers?”

“That and I sort of didn’t like my last orders, so I jumped ship. Or rather, I hopped aboard one.” Castiel and Dean share a smile over their makeshift blankets. “Why did you pick me up?”

Dean grinned. “‘Cuz you were hot, and you looked so lost, standing in the middle of the street. Why’d you accept?”

Castiel paused and stared at him with a frank assessment. “‘Cuz you were hot,” Castiel echoed, but Dean rolled his eyes good-naturedly before Castiel continued with, “and I wanted to get laid?” 

That earned a howl of laughter from Dean.

Castiel filled his memories with these moments of glee. He stored them so that once they parted, he would at least remember that he’d once made this man laugh, and it had been glorious.

**-o-**

Dean tried half-heartedly to argue for a casino visit again, but with Sam’s adamant refusal, they continued on their trip.

There was nothing in Dalhart, Texas, but the all-day drive had been tiring. They decided that it was a good rest stop for now. The people were friendly to the point Castiel became paranoid about their smiles. One time he sidled closer to Dean and whispered, “I think they recognize me here. Everyone is beaming at me and asking ‘how do you do?’”

Dean guffawed, slapping his palm against his thigh, as he reassured Castiel that there was probably nothing to it. 

They’d gotten a full tune-up before they left Singer Salvage_, _but Dean browsed for another spare tire. In the evening, Sam gave up his double shared room Dean and readily took up a single, making sure that their two rooms were on the other side of the hotel. 

Dean made love to Castiel like he couldn’t believe they would meet again. He lingered and pressed unintelligible words on Castiel’s skin.

Dean Winchester had branded Castiel’s soul, and Castiel didn’t know what to do about it. So he swallowed the kisses and cradled him in his arms, pretending that Palo Alto wasn’t coming.

Castiel asked Sam about the rooms when they caught each other going to breakfast the next day if he was all right with Dean and him together. 

Sam looked frankly baffled.

“Are you kidding me?” Sam said between hiccups of laughter, the argument between him and Dean forgotten, the way brothers forget fights but remember to get even. “I’m just so happy that all that moping has ended.”

“As opposed to the sappy noon time holo-drama we’ve evolved into?” Castiel asked, raising one perfect eyebrow.

Sam held his sides, shaking his head. “At least I don’t have to _pretend _it isn’t there anymore.”

So Castiel now knew that Sam was on board. 

After another full day of driving, they rested for Dean’s mandatory four hours. They’d found a rundown hotel in Adamana, Arizona, along the highway. It was apparently haunted, though Dean had slept soundly through the night. 

Sam met them the next morning, looking haggard with dark circles under his eyes. The cold spots and noises in the wall had bothered him all night, he’d complained. 

The information perked Dean up right away, and he wanted to drag the two of them through the town ghost hunting. Sam vehemently protested and claimed he would have nightmares for the rest of his life. They’d have followed the map, but heard about the petrified forest and decided on a side trip. 

Convincing Dean to see the sights started to become progressively easier, until the point where Sam only _mentioned_ an interest in going somewhere else and the Chevrolet would nose her way to another direction.

Adamana was a ghost town, and they stopped for a half-day of sightseeing the stone trees before taking off again. Dean’s driving has improved massively since New York, and they made the trip to Flagstaff in one hour. 

During their ride, Castiel watched the cables strung up high in the air and isolated steam engines along the road that powered the highway lights. The lines swung like crazy due to the flat and windy landscape, and Castiel couldn’t shake the fear that they would topple and crush them before they reached Stanford. 

Castiel expected them to drive further, but they stopped at a motel. All became clear when Dean showed them the next attraction.

Without explaining where they were going, Dean drove them a few miles, turning Chevrolet’s gleaming black hood into a dusty lot in the observatory. 

Dean and Castiel decided to go to the lookout station, separating from Sam when he trailed into the research area, drawn by the display about Mars and its canals.

The huge open-deck exhibit had a wall to wall holo feature. It showed the constellations and the 110 astronomical objects cataloged thus far by man. The jewel at its center: an elevated plaza mounted with several different telescopes. Dean tried to remember everything that he could, comparing it to what he recalled from Castiel’s gift.

Castiel came up behind Dean and placed his chin on the groove Dean’s shoulder as he slipped a hand into his. “Dean?” Castiel snaked his free arm around Dean’s waist. 

Dean turned his head towards his name, but his attention was still on the hologram showing the constellations. The low hum of the background music was unobtrusive. 

Castiel chuckled and pecked a kiss onto Dean’s cheek. “Why do you always look to the heavens?” Castiel asked softly.

Dean got quiet after that. He stared as the holo evolved from the earth to the galaxies, then the sun and moon, and finally the planets. He played with Castiel’s fingers on his waist, skimming the delicate skin there. They were hands that have never experienced hard labor. 

Castiel was patient with Dean’s response, solidly at his back.

“Dad taught us to steer using the North Star. There’s a lot of advanced navigational stuff from NovaTech now, but…” Dean trailed off, eyes distant despite still facing the holo that was mapping out the entire known universe. “Even in the early days of GRACE, you had to know how to navigate the old fashioned way before you could operate the tech.”

Dean’s mind brought up nights under the sky with his mom and dad. Times full of laughter and ‘oohs’ and ‘ahs’ as they explored the heavens and discovered new stars. Mom continued to take him and Sam, even after their father slowly came less and less, the business taking all of his focus. Dean still cherished those memories and was grateful for the flickering light of distant suns that gave them something to bond over.

Dean talked about Sam frequently, his mom sometimes (in the dark after they were sated and content to talk about the days _before),_ and his father rarely. It was the first time Dean told Castiel anything detailed about his father. 

“Dean?” Castiel withdrew his arm and successfully rescued Dean from his memories.

“Sam loved stargazing nights. I kept learning out of habit,” he said, finally turning from the holo to look at the 10-foot long brass telescope in the center of the deck. Too bad they had to leave before nightfall. He really would have wanted to take it apart to see how it worked. Maybe he could make his own someday. “But yeah, mom pointed out the constellations, and dad showed us where we were.”

Castiel hesitated. “And do you know where you are now?”

“I kinda thought I was here with you,” Dean answered with a grin.

The answering smile was a ray of sunshine and breathtaking. Dean wished he had time to study this man like he had studied the stars.

**-o-**

Dean cut the drive short when they reach Las Vegas because _everyone_ has heard of Las Vegas, and they should see what the fuss was all about. The city had developed when the steam engines and the railways brought the construction of the dam. It has been an attraction ever since. Dean found out that Castiel was definitely _not_ a Vegas fan.

His companions didn’t argue when Dean announced the stop after the five-hour trip. The three of them walked along the concrete sprawl of gaudy lights and themed hotels. Cogwheels and their steam machines chugging tirelessly, filled the city. Dean laughed at Castiel’s restless wandering and complaints about the lack of greenery in sight. 

It became clear that Castiel was bored. He had no interest in the casinos and the free-flowing booze. They explored one end of the city to the other with nothing taking his fancy. The land was arid, and the soft breeze helped little with the intense heat.

The only saving grace turned out to be Red Rock Canyon, but Sam and Cas did appease Dean by going up the tallest building in the area.

They visited the reef park and adventure dome after. Dean extended the stay to go to museums. Sam voted for the parks that were present in the hopes of making a small green relief in this concrete jungle. By the time the day-long detour into Vegas had stretched to four, they were fast running out of reasons to stick around.

That night, Dean started counting the cash he had remaining from his mother. 

Castiel found him stacking his money on the marble top washstand of their lavish hotel room. He gave Dean a playful shove before he handed over bills from his bag. It was enough for the entire month’s rent and food. The gift embarrassed Dean—it was way too much—but Castiel was firm. 

“Think of it as my passage for the trip. I have enough left over for a few months. Besides, I’ll be staying with my brother.”

It would take Dean years to pay it back, especially if he were supporting Sam. He owed Castiel now, instead of the other way around, and it didn’t sit well with Dean. But Sam wouldn’t be able to focus if they were hungry at Stanford, so he was forced to accept the charity for the gift that it was.

Dean thanked Castiel with kisses and memories made. He gripped Castiel’s hip tightly while he laid kisses over his thighs, never breaking eye contact between them. Castiel’s cock twitched insistently in front of his face, trying to gain attention. Dean licked a stripe up the prominent vein on its underside, causing the fist in his hair to tighten, tugging as the man rocked forward. 

Dean watched Castiel lose himself between his touches. He slowly worked on Castiel’s hole, stretching it with the lotion he’d found in the bathroom while he tried his best to swallow the man’s erection.

“Dean,” Castiel moaned gently as Dean slid two fingers softly into his body. Dean needed to memorize each dip and crevice—he wanted to kiss every inch of soft tan skin. Unsaid words passed between them. 

With Castiel’s steady gaze Dean tasted the junction of his thigh, inhaling the spice and salt there that was all Cas’. He would lose this—lose Cas—when they arrived in California, so Dean would give himself now, while they had the chance, and hope he wouldn’t be absolutely crushed when they parted.

They made quick work of their clothes, lips rarely separating, falling clumsily onto the bed. 

Dean finally buried himself in the welcoming heat, exploring Castiel’s neck with his lips; Castiel’s legs locked around Dean’s hips, silently urging him forward. This was no hurried sexual encounter behind the boiler room like Dean had had when he was old enough to know what he wanted. 

Castiel’s eyes had caught onto Dean’s, desperation, and the longing mirrored there. Dean stroked his tongue against the seam of Castiel’s lips as he thrust deep but slow. He broke the kiss only once Castiel tossed his head from side to side, and surrendered to want and need. Castiel’s grip tightened on Dean’s back, digging into it like a brand. 

Dean lost himself, rocking into Castiel as a reminder he was present _now_. He needed to be seen and recognized for who he was but knew that their parting was the right choice. That this man had no use for him other than his body and transport, and once they reached California, there was nothing to chain him to Dean. Castiel had no place at Stanford.

But Dean had this moment to claim Castiel as his.

They came together. It was raw and left Dean’s heart ragged. Dean didn’t care to put a name to the fullness in his chest.

He would remember even when Cas forgot.

**-o-**

Dean looked peaceful, touched by the moonlight that filtered through the hotel’s windows. One hand was reaching out towards the empty space where Castiel had been earlier, the other buried underneath his head as a pillow.

It had been a few hours after their lovemaking, and it had left Castiel restless and unable to sleep.

Everything has been perfect lately. But Castiel knew, deep in his heart of hearts, that last night had been a goodbye. Palo Alto was less than a day’s drive away. They had passed through every single attraction that appealed, and Dean already worried about the state of their finances. Their time had come to a close. 

There was no future for Dean and Castiel together. Michael would eventually catch up with Castiel regardless of how smart he hides, and once that happens, his brother would force him to move back to Stava. Despite everything, Castiel would always end up in NovaCorp, the only other place that Castiel could be something of value. If Michael found Castiel with Dean, they would make Dean return to a country he’d already fled. It would ruin Dean’s life, and Castiel didn’t want to be a part of that.

There were flaws in Castiel that Dean has not seen yet. If Castiel stayed longer, Dean would realize that Castiel was not worth much outside his family, and would leave him anyway.

So he should go now, while it’s easier for the two of them, while there were no words of love or promises shared. While he hasn’t shed tears yet.

Castiel drank the sight of Dean but shook himself from his musings. He quickly changed into his sturdy pants and a white shirt he’d appropriated from Dean. It still smelled faintly of leather, coal, and a scent that Castiel identified uniquely as Dean’s.

Finding the hotel’s notepad, Castiel penned a quick letter to Dean. He left the note at the side table before stealing a brief touch. He brushed the short brown locks away from the sleeping man’s face, his fingers curling into themselves when Dean moved.

Both fearful and hopeful that Dean would wake up, Castiel took a deep breath when Dean simply burrowed deeper into the covers.

It was time to go.

Castiel wouldn’t be able to leave if he lingered, and he’d already taken up so much of the Winchesters’ time and attention.

Gabriel had known he was in Las Vegas and had offered to pick him up yesterday. Castiel simply needed to find a place to stay until his brother found him. That should be easy to do in the city that never sleeps

_It would be a clean break, with less heartache for everyone_, Castiel told himself. He’s already accompanied Dean to all but their final destination. Dean would not need him now. But each step away that Castiel took was heavier than the last. 

Castiel has walked away from many things in his life, both dreams and ambitions, and people sacrificed on the altar of the Novak Empire. He had always thought that being a dutiful son would fill the hollow spaces the ashes had left behind. 

Instead he found a semblance of that in Dean. Dean had taken his hand and lead him from the maze of his family’s neglect. Castiel had been cared for in those few moments, probably even loved, if he gave in to wishful thinking. And now, he felt he would never find his way again.

**-o-**

Dean woke up slowly, curling into himself and trying to search for heat, being sadly disappointed at the lack of it. He squinted at the other half of the bed, his hand moving across the cold side, wondering where Cas had gone.

He braced himself with an elbow to crane his neck and check the bathroom, but it was dark and with no sound of running water. His eyes landed on the chair that had propped Castiel’s suitcase, the one he refused to leave anywhere, last night. It was conspicuously empty.

A sense of panic engulfed him as he inspected the rest of the room. Castiel’s boots, which he’d always kept by the door before walking around barefoot in the room was gone. The tan overcoat he curled around himself during the windy morning rides was not at the back of the chair where they’d haphazardly thrown it before they’d—

Dean choked. He didn’t want to think about what they’d done last night. Not if that had been the last.

It was then that he noticed the note on his bedside table; the handwriting was elegant in the way that must have been taught in those fancy schools. Dean dropped back to the bed, lightheaded before his trembling fingers reached for the letter. 

_Dean,_

_ Thank you for allowing me the pleasure of your company. _

Dean stopped reading to take a deep breath, but couldn’t pull enough air to fill his lungs. 

He knew what this was: it was a goodbye. 

This is what he got for wanting something for himself. Hadn’t he learned when he was young that choosing things for himself was selfish and would only lead to disappointment? Look at where it landed his parents.

Crumpling the sheet without bothering to read the rest of it, he placed the memories of Castiel under a wall and boarded it up. If he didn’t think about it, it didn’t exist. If it didn’t exist, he wouldn’t be hurt by it. 

Dean pulled on his clothes. By the time he’d shaken off the sleep fog from his brain, he was pounding on the door Sam’s room. 

“What?” His brother snarled as he opened the door on the third knock with an epic bitchface. But before Dean could answer, Sam must have seen something on Dean’s expression because his face morphed into one of caution. “Hey, uh, so where’s Cas?”

A sharp shooting pain speared his chest before his heart evened out to a sluggish beating. Dean shrugged before he shoved the crumpled note to Sam. “Come on, we’re wasting daylight, and it’s nine hours to Palo Alto.”

Sam paused in consideration before waving Dean inside. He was still dressed in loose shorts and a towel around his shoulders, something that Sam usually did after a morning run or work out. “Yeah, give me ten minutes to change.”

They left Las Vegas before the crack of dawn. After thirty-four hours driving, five stops, eight nights, and immeasurable memories from Sioux Falls onwards, they arrived at Palo Alto.


	7. Eridanus: The Celestial River

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> > ** __ ** _On the day of their reunion, the deities realized that they could not cross the celestial river. The princess became so despondent that a flock of magpies came and made a bridge for her._
>> 
>> **Myths and Tales of Old: Tanabata**

A month into their stay in Palo Alto found Sam and Dean lodging above Harvelle’s Roadhouse. Bobby Singer proved to be a godsend, introducing them to the wife of an old hunting buddy. Ellen took one look at their bedraggled appearance and set them both to work—Dean as a bartender and Sam as a busboy. They were given free room and board and were paid the full going rate despite their lack of job permits.

Sam was diligently studying for his entrance exams now that he had space, time, and resources to study.

Dean didn’t touch the money from Castiel. He divided his earnings into thirds: one-third was set aside for a place of their own, another third saved to pay Sam’s school fees, and the remainder was used to cover necessities. 

Dean wouldn’t allow himself to dwell on ‘what-if’s. It helped that he was too busy to think about Castiel and what-might-have-been. He had no idle time to examine his thoughts. 

He focused instead on earning as much money as he could—even running errands in town for anyone willing to pay. Although he admittedly undercharged his favorites: Fred Jones and the Lisa Braeden. Fred was a former steam engineer who had become housebound in retirement. The man preferred watching old holos of coyotes chasing roadrunners. Dean fetched his groceries and made sure he ate. Then there was gardening and odd jobs for the Widow Braeden.

He caught a break when he heard about the Bevell steam car factory. The Bevells had moved to America to start their business, trying to produce cheaper cars. They developed an innovative system, creating stations for each build stage and moving the vehicles between them during construction rather than building them from the ground up in once place. Staff turnover was high because the work was hard and tedious. Dean was hired instantly.

He cut food expenditures by buying whatever meal was on sale at the baker’s in the evening and portioning that evenly for the entire day. Sometimes, if he got lucky, Ellen or Lisa would send him meals, and that would be heavenly. 

Sam thrived, spending most of his free time in the library at Stanford. No matter how much he protested about doing his fair share, Dean insisted that he limit his work at the Roadhouse to no more than three shifts a week. “I’ll earn the money you study.” Dean was so stubborn it was easier for Sam to just give in.

Dean’s life in America was no different from the life he’d had in Stava. When he wasn’t working, he came home he cooked and cleaned (in other words he took care of Sam) until Dean went to sleep. When he woke up the next day, he did the same thing all over again. He drifted through the monotonous days. 

“Dean?” Sam’s voice called when he noticed that his brother was lagging. They’d been walking together, Dean to his job at the factory, and Sam to the library. “You’re gonna be late.” 

Dean gave a soundless sigh before catching up. The gravel was sharp through the bottoms of his work boots, mental note to have them resoled before they were beyond repair. The last thing he needed was to break into their savings for new ones.

Some freedom this had turned out to be. 

“What’s up with all the girls?” Sam asked. 

They were trudging along the picturesque paths that cut directly from the Roadhouse to the factory. Dean didn’t have time to appreciate the view of the trees the city was named after.

“Whaddya mean?” he asked, even though he knew exactly what Sam was implying. 

Sam sighed. “Are you over Cas?”

Dean swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. Christ! Sam and his feelings. What was he supposed to say? 

He had fallen off the docks when he was seven—before he learned how to swim. He’d thrashed while his clothes bogged him down; he’d struggled to break the surface for a gulp of air. Missing Cas? It was worse than drowning.

“We’re not talking about this, Sam.”

“Dean. He’s not _that_ far away, you know. And I’m sure he wants to talk to you.”

Dean choked on the dust they’d kicked up during the walk. Not far away? Sam just doesn’t get it. It’s not the geography that’s the problem. He couldn’t do it. Losing Cas a second time? Walking away the first time had already been unbearable, like trying to move against the tide. And Sam wanted him to do that again? 

“He’s got a life of his own,” Dean said, looking at Sam with a challenge in his eyes. “And I’m sure he don’t need trash from Gehenna tarnishing all that Caelum gold. He’s a Novak, Sam. Just what do you expect me to do?” 

Sam’s answering was a disapproving hum, and Dean shot him a dirty look. “The hell does ‘hmmm’ mean?” He demanded.

“I’ve noticed something about the women you flirt with, Dean. You can’t be this dumb, surely.” 

Did this conversation really have to happen? This was ridiculous. Of course, he flirted at the Roadhouse. Flirting got him more tips, and sometimes even a night out. And if he was lucky, breakfast. And if Dean ended up going home with more dark-haired blue-eyed women, then that’s down to him and his choices. 

“So I have a type, so what?” he asked blankly, eyeing the factory on the horizon.

“You’re really gonna be like this, aren’t you?” 

“Like what, Sam?” Dean knew what Sam wanted to hear. He wasn’t gonna give him the satisfaction. If he ignored it, it would go away. It was his business, not Sam’s.

“Nevermind,” Sam grunted as he watched Dean veer towards the employee’s entrance. Sam still hollered, “I’m sure Castiel misses you too. You can always just borrow my phone and call him some time.” 

**-o-**

The bars in Los Angeles were wilder than the ones in Caelum, Castiel thought. His gaze swept over the bodies dancing flush against each other; the smoke from the cigars curling and circling around them as if it too was moving to the sultry melody sung by the woman onstage. 

Castiel had holed himself up in a corner, nursing his drinks and people watching. He’d worked his way through a number of stumbling blocks with the NovaLens. Not the least of which was his urge to keep the colors to a heterochromatic hazel-green.

Gabriel had watched him go through marginally differing shades obsessively. Castiel rejecting one after the other, focusing on them for hours. He barely bothered with the hardware. Gabriel noticed the dirty dishes, taken in the unshaven chin—rapidly becoming a beard—and the three-day-old sweater, before declaring that they were going out.

Then he had given Castiel a razor and laid out an entire set of clothes. It included a ruffled shirt, a black double-breasted vest, and even socks and underwear. Castiel put his foot down when he saw the purple brocade jacket and shrugged on his trusty tan overcoat instead.

The older Novak had gone on drinking and was now dancing with his on-again-off-again partner Kali. All the while, Castiel hid in one corner fending off interested parties. So far, the most perplexing had been a woman who’d asked if Castiel was short for anything.

Stupefied, Castiel leaned away from her cloying perfume as he answered, “Sure. My full name is Castielablanca.”

And then she’d given him an empty giggle, pressed herself even closer and tried to ply him with _more_ drinks. Gabriel rescued him by draping an arm over his shoulder. He forcefully planted himself between the girl and Castiel, sending her away in a huff.

“Good god, Cassie. Haven’t you learned to enjoy life yet?” Gabriel twirled his finger idly in the air, adding, “You did take off on that little road trip with those boys of yours.”

“They’re not _boys_,” Castiel protested as he ducked under Gabriel’s arm, smelling the sweet cocktails on his brother’s breath. “And they were certainly not _mine_.”

Gabriel chortled, tapping the bar for another drink. “I can tell with the way you’re moping and all.”

Castiel appreciated Gabriel’s attempt to get him out of his slump, but he’d rather be working on the NovaLens, so he could show Father that what he produced was marketable. That his skills for invention were more valuable to NovaCorp than forcing him to oversee the conglomerate. Michael and Luke were content to do that work.

“Look, what’s your game plan tonight?” Gabriel asked, gesticulating at the noisy bar.

“Getting wasted apparently,” Castiel muttered as he picked up another bourbon on the rocks, relishing the burn of the alcohol as he downed it. He was starting to become a little tipsy, but Gabriel wanted him to have fun. Cheers to _fun. _

“I know you say you came up here to escape your engagement. But you knew Michael would search for you anyway and that he was gonna end up finding you because Michael is like a hound on a trail. So why come all this way?”

“I want to have something I made before they take my life away from me, Gabriel. I never fully completed the NovaWatch. Father pulled me out of R&D before I finished the prototype. I was only able to install the basic GRACE network and Nova.” The hard stool dug against his thighs, grounding Castiel. “I’m not like the rest of you. Ambition, money, fame… none of that means anything to me. But I want _this_.”

Castiel sighed. He had seen them for what they were when he was aimlessly skipping stones over the waters of a solitary dock. He realized that he would always differ from them, but that his own dreams would never manifest because he bent to their will. His parents had laid a path for him, and he’d wanted to deviate, but it was simpler to just follow its course than fight. Now was twenty-seven years old and soul-searching in a bar with his brother.

He envied Dean and his ability to make a new life for himself. He’d broken his engagement with _Castiel_ to do it, but what was Castiel supposed to do with that knowledge? Tell Dean that Castiel was the fianceé he’d left? 

“If you want to finish the prototype, stop nitpicking on the color of the lenses, and work on the functionality. You’re wasting time on aesthetics when what you really need to do is get it working.” Gabriel brandished his tumbler, ice clinking against the glass and the amber liquor splashing against the sides, some of it escaping its confines to spill on Castiel. “It’s a distraction, and you know it.”

“I don’t think I can do it alone,” Castiel confessed. He’s gotten so used to following orders that despite his desire to disobey—and even after setting out on a dirt road to see the sights—he felt untethered. Castiel was stuck _because_ he was unrestricted, and it made him feel weak and foolish.

Gabriel shut his slacked jaw with a click. “_Goddamn_ this family and their narcissistic controlling behavior. They really did a number on you, didn’t they? You rode a ship, traveled across a different country, evaded Michael for two weeks. You coded Nova. She might not have been incorporated in the watch because you were too busy, and others had to do it for you, but she’s still _your_ creation, and yet you still doubt yourself.”

“I wasn’t able to complete a NovaWatch.”

“It doesn’t mean that you didn’t produce one from beginning to end, that you didn’t _design _it, Cas. You don’t need to go back to Mom and Dad and that stuffy house. You are welcome to stay here as long as you like, but you are more than capable of living on your own. We could market that lens and sell it as yours. You don’t _need_ it under the bracket of NovaCorp. You _can_ do this.”

Not if he doesn’t finish the NovaLens.

Castiel left the bar earlier than they’d planned and shut himself into the room Gabriel had provided for him. Not for the first time, he grabbed his watch and wired it to Gabriel’s GRACE system. Wishing forlornly that there was a message waiting for him, he hoped that the notification was drowned out by the noise and distraction of the bar. There wasn’t, of course. Dean had thoroughly cut him out of his life.

He left his watch wired up and rearranged his workspace. Hooking up the materials he’d ordered through Gabriel, he checked the rest of his systems. He thought about sticking to glasses instead of the more difficult task of creating a lens. But Castiel vetoed the idea immediately. Setting limits to ambition in the early stages wasn’t going to help him complete his project.

Castiel continued to work on the design for the lens in the coming weeks, although progress came in fits and starts. He’d set up shop in the garage attached to the house. Gabriel equipped it with everything he could possibly need from soldering irons to NovaBox uplinks. Gabriel had even acquired a precision zoomed scope on an articulating arm with pistons using steam to move its bulky weight.

Every day, Castiel woke up, tinkered with the software and hardware, shoveled the sweets that Gabriel provided into his mouth, then collapsed in his bed to sleep and then repeat the entire process the following day. 

Gabriel’s intervention hadn’t entirely worked as he intended. He continued to check on Castiel regularly. The older Novak encouraged him and played the occasional prank just to keep him on his toes. Exasperated and desperate, Gabriel slapped tickets onto his work table one day.

Castiel glanced at them, one ear to the processing beats from the software as it executed his latest commands. “What’s this?”

Gabriel crossed his arms. “You know what _this_ is.”

“Don’t be deliberately obtuse. I’m asking you why you’re giving me train tickets to—” Castiel paused impatiently as he scanned the lines before he faltered and continued with, “—Palo Alto.”

“I’m telling you, you’re done making the lenses,” Gabriel argued as he took the invention from Castiel. He placed them into a bottle of sterilizing liquid, capped it, and shoved it in his pocket.

Disgruntled, Castiel reached out for Gabriel, but his brother danced away. “I still have to—”

“No, Cassie, you don’t. Admit it, you were in a rut for a while there, but you finally got in your groove. You’ve finished all the hardware. You coded most of the software before you came here. The lenses and the watches are working, they’re compatible, they practically have the same operating system. What you’re doing is dragging your feet because you want to get a specific color.” Gabriel gesticulated wildly, pointing towards Castiel with lips thinned out. “Sell them plain. Not everyone will need them colored at all, let alone green. For the love of God, if you must obsess over the specific tint, add it as an option later, make it version 2.0 for all I care.”

“They’re not right yet.” Castiel insisted. He could be as stubborn as Gabriel if he wanted to; and in this instance, he most definitely wanted to.

“I checked the lenses, fitted one last week. I gave you a few days, waiting for you to come on your own and tell me they were ready. Looks like you weren’t going to.” Gabriel raised a challenging eyebrow to his brother. “You’re just nitpicking now. Let _me_ do my magic and sell this, and you can go get your boy toy.”

“He’s not a toy.” Castiel could feel a headache coming. One thing he learned about being with Gabriel was that he was persistent. It was the Novak in him.

“Whatever.” Gabriel slapped his back and pushed him towards the doorway. “Go get ‘em. You might even get the shade right with the original in front of you.”

**-o-**

It was Luke who turned up at the train station in Palo Alto, with his golden hair, his annoying smirk that usually meant he was about to get his way. Castiel tried to back into the crowd, underneath the holo displaying arrivals and departures hoping to disappear. It was the end of the week, and the station was filled with weekenders, so he thought he stood a modest chance. 

But Luke had already spotted him. He barreled through the crowds and ignored everyone’s protests as he marched towards Castiel. Though he tried to move away, Lucifer still clasped his hand to Castiel’s shoulder and ordered him to walk forward.

“How did you even find me?” Castiel demanded as Luke folded him into a steam car with a tinted divider between the back and front. Luke had a driver waiting for them who’d snapped to attention once they’d arrived.

“The question is, rather, how did you ever think you _wouldn’t_ be found?” Luke scoffed, shaking his head and pulling in a lungful of cigarette smoke before offering one to Castiel. He shrugged when Castiel declined. “I’m to accompany you until you see sense and let me escort you back to the fold. So to speak.”

“I’m not going back,” Castiel protested, holding the seats as the car turned a corner.

Luke hummed before fixing his blue-gray eyes on Castiel. “I’m not convinced, little one. You _are_ used to a certain amount of creature comforts. You also have an entire empire that’s willing to back you.”

God, Luke was a condescending prick, rivaled only by Michael in his sense of entitlement. “If only I came into the fold,” Castiel reiterated.

“Exactly.” Luke grinned, tapping his cigarette on the car ashtray. “I chafed at father’s hold too. How could he love the company more than us? But I realized it was easier to spend his money than earn his love.”

Charles Novak did not micromanage. But he also watched the companies NovaCorp was shareholding. He kept tabs on the cost of production of all of his holdings. Charles listened for the development of tech on top of his regular duties. By watching, he recognized which manager would be promoted and when a product would be released more than he knew the birthdays of his own children. 

Ruthless, ambitious, and cunning, he ruled NovaCorp with an iron fist as chairman of the board. It was a shame that those same qualities that made him successful in the boardroom made him such a terrible father.

“Then why are you trying to get me to go back to Stava?” Castiel asked. “I don’t like the managerial tasks. I’m not suited to it—it’s just nepotism. I’d rather be left alone to design and build what I can.”

Luke assessed him from head to foot. “I was like you once. I fought Michael for Managing Director and Deputy Chairman. Imagine all the stress.” Luke shuddered at the thought. “I realized later that I didn’t need that. I preferred Senior VP in fleet management. You’ll learn your place, too.”

“Overlooking the books?” Castiel snorted. No matter if they tacked on ‘Commercial Administrator and Manager’ as his title, he was a glorified accountant. “No, thank you.”

“And you’d rather be here with your passing dalliance than see if you could be great in the company?”

“What do _you_ know?”

“Oh, enough, little brother. Enough.” Luke looked out of the window as the car stopped. “We’re here. Try to behave yourself.”

Castiel didn’t recognize where Luke had taken him, but it did not bode well. The last time Luke dragged him anywhere, they’d all had gotten into a drunken brawl, and Castiel couldn’t walk for a week. 

The house was picturesque, a single-story bungalow with the roof recently replaced, and half the outside painted fresh while the other half was stripped and waiting for its first coat. Rose bushes, already withering from the incoming frost of winter, surrounded the house. Beyond, lay a sprawling lawn and an unfenced garden.

Castiel found Dean on the yard, raking leaves, whistling a forgotten tune. The clean scent of the freshly mown grass reached Castiel in the street. Castiel hadn’t been prepared for meeting Dean like this. Especially not when Luke was the one who brought him here. His stomach was a mass of butterflies as he started to worry about what he was going to say. 

Dean looked good. Castiel had been lying to himself, thinking that Dean would show at least _some_ physical signs of missing him. His hair was turning a darker shade of brown, and he was paler than his previous tan from working on the ship. 

Castiel drank in the sight of him. The butterflies intensified into a murder of crows, playing with all of his internal organs. Before he could call Dean, a brunette stepped out of the house. The snap of her practical leather shoes against the lawn called Dean’s attention, and she handed him a glass of water. Dean smiled and pecked a grateful kiss on her cheek.

Castiel blinked rapidly, trying to will the scene in front of him to change, but Dean and the woman were still entwined together. Had Castiel thought walking away had been difficult? This was a hundred times worse. Having confirmation that he’d just been a passing moment in Dean Winchester’s life threatened to have all the bile in his stomach regurgitate.

Luke startled Castiel out of his shock by saying, “This _is_ why you came here, wasn’t it? Go on. Go and greet lover-boy before they _really_ start making out.” 

Castiel closed his eyes against the sight. They were still far enough, across the street, blocked by the steam engine. Dean was lavishing the woman with one of his gentlest smiles, the one Castiel had become accustomed to seeing while they talked on long stretches of road. “I just wanted to see if he was doing okay. If he was happy.”

“Happy enough, I’d wager, with a piece of skirt like that.” Luke gave the brunette a leer. “He obviously doesn’t want you. He’s building a life here for himself.” 

_Without you, _ hung in the air. Castiel turned his back to the scene and climbed into the car ploddingly. His heart thudded painfully against his chest. “How did you even find him?”

“You forget Nova records all data, despite a lack of connection,” Lucifer tutted. “As soon as you reconnected to a neural GRACE Network, Nova uploaded everything. You used Gabriel’s lines when you arrived in LA, I assume. Those are inherently connected to GRACE. Nova _does _mean Novak Online Virtual Assistant for a reason.”

Castiel didn’t _forget,_ he just hadn’t known. What other changes have they made to Nova’s base code? 

“You have a private comm set up,” Lucifer said after a beat.

Sam Winchester. Castiel didn’t believe Sam would give up Dean’s location, to a stranger, no less. But Luke had his ways. “You had no right to pry,” Castiel accused, a chill on his skin despite the sun.

“Don’t worry, little brother. I tried to get into his pants, but… well, he’s too hung up on that girl.” Luke waves his hand to the house and lawn. “Told me he had someone back home. Wouldn’t accept my _hefty_ tip, either.”

Castiel rapped on the side of the door to signify the driver to leave the place. He did _not_ want to hear how much Dean treasured this woman, or how he’d easily forgotten Castiel.

“So where to, Castiel?” Luke asked. “I booked Crowley here for the entire day, going to bring us around Palo Alto.”

Castiel leaned against the car seat, his eyes seeing nothing. Luke was right, it was time to go home. He’d done as much as he could with the lenses. Castiel came here to see Dean, perhaps to convince him they had a future, but Castiel had failed there. Maybe he really was useless outside of NovaCorp.

“Anywhere, I guess,” Castiel mumbled against the seats. “I do miss my room.”

“Stava Istana it is, then.”

Castiel must swallow his pride and return home. It was inevitable. What had he truly wanted to accomplish? Gain a few months of peace from Michael? Prove that he can do something without the shadow of his family’s empire? Escape from an unwanted marriage? How ironic that was the one thing he managed to do.

When he found Dean, he had been sidetracked. Dean, whose soul shone like the sun and showed Castiel what it was to be free. 

There were spots across Castiel’s vision. He wanted to hurl something, preferably the NovaWatch, at Luke’s knowing smirk. Settling for getting his breaths even, he focused on a dark spot on the roof of the car and let his mind wander.

**-o-**

“Order up!” Dean called towards his brother. Sam immediately came up and took the food from the cook, Missouri. She was one of the kind souls who’d practically adopted the Winchester boys and fed them whenever she could. The aroma of freshly grilled ribs wafted through the air making Dean’s stomach clench to think about the beef-jerky he was going to have later

Dean wasn’t supposed to be working today, but a server had gotten sick, and Friday night was usually busy, so he’d volunteered. He never said no to extra bucks. Dean worked around the tables, offering refills. He kept his eye on the door while keeping a mental tab on what he still had to do.

Palo Alto was a bustling town that had developed around Stanford. Some of the technology giants had a presence, like the developers of Atis and the Bevell factory. 

Bill Harvelle had built the roadhouse at the periphery of the city. He’d envisioned it as a waystation for those passing through to San Francisco. Instead, it had drawn more of those working in the industry. It became a beacon to those relaxing after the workweek—or after exams, in the case of Stanford students.

There were people everywhere, most rushing to get to their destinations. He and Sam had previously passed through other ridiculously busy towns; Palo Alto didn’t seem to be nearly as big, more of a residential area from what Dean had seen so far. 

The door dinged open, and Dean plastered a smile to his face to welcome the newcomer. It was drizzling outside, but it hadn’t deterred patrons from getting a pint or two to warm their bellies and a good dinner before heading home.

A knee-length black leather tailcoat with a high collar that reached up to his ears covered the guest. He’d pulled up the hood to keep his hair away from the rain.

Dean headed over immediately. “Evening, sir, what can I get you to drink?”

The man raised his head, and the hood fell back. Dean dropped his pencil with a muted thump. “Dad?”

John Winchester assessed the surroundings, the wooden panels of the bar with its mismatched seats, the pool table, and the dim lighting before he looked at his son. “Dean.”


	8. Ophiuchus: The Serpent-Bearer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ** __ ** _Asclepius derived his name from healing soothingly and from deferring the withering that comes with death. For this reason, they give him a serpent as an attribute, indicating that he undergoes a process similar to the serpent in that he, as it were, grow young again after illnesses and slough off old age._
> 
> **Asclepius: Collection and Interpretation of the Testimonies**

John ordered sirloin and the beer on tap and secluded himself in the corner of the bar after their initial greetings. He hadn’t demanded an immediate talk, something that Dean was grateful for. 

The brothers sent sidelong glances to their dad, but kept up with their work, if a little distracted. Dean had only messed up one drink order because there’s a fine line between gin rickey and gin fizz. He’d put on the charm, said his sincerest apologies, and gave an extra shot on the house. 

By the time the Roadhouse was closing, Missouri had given each of them encouraging pats before leaving, and Ellen acknowledged John with a nod then instructed Dean to lock up. She left with the last squeak of the door hinges.

John looked at both his sons in turn. “How has life been treating you?”

“We’re not going back to the Ark,” Dean said, as he pushed up his sleeves. He needed to get air, and the ever-present scent of beer was not helping. 

“That so?” John turned to Sam, who’d nodded an affirmative despite the grimace on his face. “And whose idea was it to hop the border and attempt to live here?”

“Mine,” they answered together. Dean glared at Sam, because what the heck?

“I see.” John leaned back as he took both of them in, letting the silence descend. Dad lived for his rules and order, that he was here was a testament to that. John did not push. He waited and assessed and let the silence bear his judgment for him.

Finally, the lack of noise became too heavy for Dean. “If you’d just listen—”

“I wanted to go to Stanford, Dad,” Sam blurted.

“—to me,” Dean finished on a soft note.

“What did this—” John swept his hand over the bar and the tumblers of half-filled cocktails before he landed his eyes on Dean “—accomplish?”

Dean needed to say something, _anything_, but what could he offer? That he worked at the Bevell’s factory for a few dollars and at the Roadhouse at night for room and food? That he saved up all he could for Sam’s tuition, and he feared that it still wouldn’t be enough? That with Mary’s money and even Cas’ contribution, he didn’t know if they’d survive the year?

Again John let the silence hang before he said, “When I married your mother, I was worthless. I had dreams aplenty, but dreams couldn’t build a house or give you food. I’ve been aimless just as you are.”

Dean swallowed against the ball lodged in his throat. He barely remembered their life before the Ark, but he needed to know why Dad was bringing this up now. He focused on his dad’s faraway look and the visible crinkle under his left eye that meant he was recalling happier times.

“Your mother changed me. I got off my ass, learned all I could at the Campbell’s engine factory. Read trade publications and news.” John had been obsessed, his mom had recounted that much. “When I picked up enough, I separated from the Campbells, experimented with their incendiary aquacasite, and realized I could do better.”

John focused on Dean again. “Mary was your grandfather’s jewel, and he gave her away. I couldn’t let her live in our dilapidated house, surviving on tinned food. It’s why I went to the Stavan officials as soon as I knew we had good engines.” The government had been impressed with the efficiency of the engines, the speed of its production. “It’s time for you to make your own worth. I think marriage to Castiel Novak would accomplish that.”

Dean took a step back, blinking rapidly. “Leave Cas out of this!”

John straightened and leaned towards Dean. “Have you met him?”

“Have I—” Dean cut himself off, shaking his head. He’d always been careful of his relationships. They were rare, and he didn’t deserve them, so he hoarded them and protected them. “Stop using Cas to get what you want.”

John glanced at Sam, who was openly staring at the two of them, mouth slacked in disbelief. “Dean, I’m not… Naomi and I talked about it when we sealed the contract. It was the big deal we had with NovaCorp when you took off, remember?”

“What are you saying?” Dean could feel the arrhythmic beating of his heart, letting the flood rush to his ears, almost drowning out his father’s words.

John held his gaze when he dropped the news, “Dean, you’re engaged to Castiel Novak.”

Later that night, when John had left for the inn he was lodged at (as if he hadn’t upended Dean’s world), Dean borrowed Sam’s phone. Sam seemed like he wanted to protest, but he saw the expression on Dean’s eyes. He must have decided that it wouldn’t be worth the argument because he’d given it to Dean.

Because he and Sam shared a room in close quarters, Dean stepped beside the Chevrolet to take the call. She was in the Roadhouse parking lot, where some of the customers had left their steam cars when they realized they were too drunk to drive.

“Did you know?” Dean demanded as soon as Castiel picked up, not allowing him to speak. It was almost five in the morning, but Dean hadn’t been thinking when he’d rung Castiel on the phone.

There was a pause before Castiel responded, “That you’ve moved on?” He sounded awake and entirely too good compared to Dean’s entire shitty night.

The rock that had lodged itself in Dean’s chest since his dad’s pronouncement started to grow heavier. It was oppressing and massive and it wouldn’t allow Dean a gasp of air. “Don’t change the subject. Did you know I was engaged to you?”

Dean heard the sharp intake of breath, which he thought answered that question succinctly. 

“I only learned you were Winchesters when we were at Bobby’s.”

“Answer the goddamned question. Did you know we were engaged or not?” There was a burning behind Dean’s eyes that was accompanying the growing boulder on his chest. 

Dean had known that his moment with Castiel would be fleeting, he’d known that the man would leave. They’d made no promises other than time spent together to a destination that they’d both agreed on. Dean had accepted this as his lot in life, because wanting things for himself was useless. He thought he’d sealed the wall to those memories tight.

He hadn’t expected this betrayal though. It had blown through the foundations of the wall he’d laid and exposed the deepest parts of Dean that had wanted to be seen by this man.

“I knew I was engaged to the Winchester heir,” Castiel admitted softly.

“What happened to ‘you won’t keep secrets,’ huh?” Dean accused, pacing beside the Chevrolet. 

“It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t change things.” It’s with bitter satisfaction that he hears the tiniest of pleading on Castiel’s voice. 

What was the point of hearing this from Cas? The idiot. He didn’t even stay. He’d left. He’d lied. He’d kept the _engagement_ to himself. What other things had Castiel lied about? “Was any of it even real?” 

Two breaths, indistinct steam engine noises before Castiel asked, “Did you know you were engaged when you left the Ark?” 

“That’s not what we’re talking about.” Because if Dean strays from this line of questioning, he might just forgive Castiel. If tarries, the wall might crumble completely and he’d remember what they’d shared.

“Isn’t it, though? You accuse me of lying? Fine. I lied to you. I did. I’m selfish.” Castiel was tripping over his words now. He didn’t raise his voice, but what had started out as a low whisper kept continuing as a deep growl. “I have that silver spoon shoved down my throat, and I wanted you to myself for all the weeks that you would have me. For all that, it was going to be fleeting. What you fail to see is that you _left_ me too, your fiancé, in Caelum. So you don’t get the right to ask me if it’s real. Because you should know, Dean. You shouldn’t have to ask.”

“You’re dead to me.” Dean said, struggling with the boulder he was being beaten with. 

A click followed by the disconnect tone answered that pronouncement. 

Dean wanted to break something. His knuckles were white around the phone, the hard material biting his palm. He kicked the tire of the Chevrolet before he crumpled to the floor, burying his head on his knees. A mountain was on his chest, crushing him with his weight. Goddamnit, Cas. Goddamnit. 

**-o-**

Castiel was being driven to work when the call arrived. The five-hour time difference between Stava and Palo Alto meant that Dean had done so at an ungodly hour. He’d wanted an immediate answer, not knowing that Castiel wasn’t in California anymore. Castiel stared at the NovaWatch blankly. He wasn’t sure if he’d imagined the entire conversation. 

When he was young, his only friend had been a girl named Meg. She hung around with him even though he was awkward and silent, had defended him against bullies, and encouraged him when he was down. They tried going out, and he’d thought it might be the beginnings of love. But he’d found her in the heart of the Novak garden maze, in the gazebo he usually read in. She was wrapped in Luke’s arms, and her state of undress told him precisely what they’d been about to do. 

This was worse, even if he and Dean weren’t together, and even if he _had_ already decided that Dean was better off without him. 

He had wanted to beg for forgiveness, or a chance if Dean could only see why he chose to hide it. But Dean didn’t want explanations. Castiel could tolerate scorn; he could debase himself until Dean saw reason. But he cannot endure indifference. 

He couldn’t recall what he did after. He knew he hadn’t begged despite wanting to. His mind had blanked after Dean’s accusation. And he’d been so happy when Sam’s number appeared on the NovaWatch before he’d picked up. He’d wanted to have connected with a holo, but Sam’s Atis wasn’t built for that.

Good thing, too. Dean’s rough voice over the speakers had been difficult enough. Castiel didn’t know what would have happened if Dean had subjected him to the full brunt of his disappointment.

Castiel promptly told the driver to stop to let him down, and he’d walked around downtown Caelum aimlessly. He eventually found himself outside of Balthazar’s penthouse after he’d walked for hours. 

Balthazar took one look at Castiel—his red-rimmed eyes, the skewed tie, the loose overcoat—and commanded everyone out. The soft music that was coming from the sound system abruptly stopped as there was a mass exodus of bodies. “Oh, Cassie, what’s going on?” 

“I found a liquor store and drank it,” Castiel confessed, broken by hiccups he’d never admit to being sobs. Balthazar wiped his tears with both thumbs and gave him a hug. 

“Still can’t do anything by half measure, can we?” Balthazar asked as he led Castiel through his room, prepared him a bath. Balthazar’s custom-made bath salts wafted in the air with its unapologetically smoky spice and hints of tobacco.

“I messed up, Balthazar. And he’s never taking me back again.”

“Who’s never taking you back? And how did you mess up?” Balthazar asked patiently as he helped Castiel down to his underwear and deposited him in the large tub, underwear and all. 

He hadn’t told anyone from home about Dean. Only Gabriel, who he’d disappointed when he’d followed Luke. The story came in fits and bouts, tripping over hiccups... all while Balthazar rubbed soothing circles on Castiel’s back. 

“Cassie, he doesn’t deserve you.”

“Dean deserves the world,” Castiel slurred. 

“Ahh,” Balthazar said as he pulled up his sleeves and started shampooing Castiel’s hair. “Have you told him that you loved him yet?” 

Castiel almost drowned in the bathwater. “He doesn’t want to hear it.”

Balthazar hummed before he rinsed Castiel off and enveloped him in a red robe. He then transferred his friend in a king-sized bed. Castiel sank into the Egyptian cotton, the fabric smooth against newly washed skin. “I’ll bring food.”

Castiel nodded absently, and although he’d not had lunch, he didn’t have the appetite. It was still early, barely six, according to the metal-faced wall-clock with cogs turning at the sides. Castiel had lost time between the phone call and the liquor store until he’d finally reached Balthazar’s.

When Balthazar realized Castiel wasn’t going to reply, he strode forward and tucked him into the bed. “No one’s slept here tonight, you can have the room. But, Castiel, he wouldn’t have been hurt by the lie if you meant absolutely nothing.”

With those parting words, Balthazar turned off the lights and left Castiel to his thoughts.

**-o-**

The next day the sun shone, and Dean forced himself to get up, glaring at the clear skies when he was in bleak spirits. It was Saturday, so it was usually when he went to Lisa’s and help with the house. 

Lisa did pretty well as a knocker-upper—one of the ladies who made sure that everyone woke up for their shifts in the Bevell factory. She had money to spare, but not the time nor the knowledge to fix the house since her husband died. Dean had met her at the bar, overheard her dilemma, offered his services, and he’d been with her ever since. If she occasionally invited him into the house, well... they were both lonely. 

But he wasn’t in the mood to play pretend with Lisa today, so he gravitated towards Baby. He’d been tinkering with her every weekend when he had the time, even though he didn't have the money to drive her anywhere. 

He was just about to do that when he noticed a familiar figure bent over the black car. Dean wanted to protest someone touching the Chevrolet, the car that he’d already labeled as his since Sioux Falls, but it was his dad. 

They’d moved it to the side of the Roadhouse, where the building offered shade in the morning. This early, the parking lot was deserted, and patrons would only start trickling in later in the afternoon when the doors opened. 

John had the tires off and was going over the brakes. Someone moved behind him, unrolling a bag of leather tools from the trunk of the car. It took a few seconds before Dean realized it was his mother.

_Mom had come with Dad? _Dean thought, bewildered. It was Mom who got him away from Stava. He was so confused that he barely even noticed that they were talking about _him. _

“—took good care of her, didn’t he?”

“He did real well,” John grunted.

Caught up in examining the tools in front of her, Mary completely missed John’s look of frank longing. The Winchester patriarch was a gruff man of few words but was eloquent in his silence. Dean hadn’t been looking at Dad all the time in Mary’s Ark, but he was a straightforward man. There was nothing straightforward in how he looked at Mary now, but the brusque way he talked didn’t gel with the soft, fond smile that he was giving. 

The gap between what his dad said and what he showed is as wide as the Atlantic, and Dean was adrift. Was this something new, or was it something that he just hadn’t noticed before?

His mom finally picked the wrench and handed it over while she watched Dad pry and pull the calipers off the wheel and checked the brake pads. “Why’d you give the Chevrolet away, Mary?”

“Why’d you promise Dean to a Novak, John?” 

John snorted, then turned the wheel to check for grooves on the rotor and the thickness of the brakes. “I told you the boy needed a purpose other than designing things and looking after Sam.”

“The way you found purpose when Dad saddled me to you as punishment?” Mary challenged.

Dean took a deep breath. Dad never talked about the arranged marriage with Mom. Dean thought it was because there was enough hurt all around. He’d always seen his parents’ relationship through the lens of the Ark’s responsibilities.

Dad left the wheels and enveloped Mom in a deep hug, his forehead resting on hers. Mary stood rigid for a few seconds before she finally lifted her hands to return the gesture. Dean stilled and took a step back. This was too intimate. His parents weren’t this way on the Ark, with Mom’s barely restrained tears and Dad’s hand rubbing a grease stain on her chin.

“Oh, Mary.” He kissed her cheek gently, with a question hanging in the air that Dean didn’t understand. “The marriage isn’t about punishment or settling Dean with more responsibility. It’s to stop Dean from being aimless. So he could find his lodestar. Just like you were to me.”

Mary tried to turn away, her hand covering her mouth in disbelief, but John had her securely in her arms. “No, that can’t be. Dad ordered you to—”

“When do you think you’ll forgive me for loving you, Mary?”

This time, Mary was able to break away from John, rubbing her arms and shaking her head. “You can’t love me.”

“Is there someone else?”

That earned him a glare. “Of course not! But if you… John, if it’s true. We’ve wasted all these years for nothing.”

John caught her hand and brought it to his lips. “Wasted? No matter what scraps you offer me... I’m forever your servant.”

Mary’s lips tightened. “I _meant_ that I love you too.”

What had Bobby said? That his dad had bought the gift for Mary because she adored the car. 

Dean gave the Chevrolet one last glance. It hadn’t been an apology or for use at work, at all. 

How could his parents not see what they had meant to each other when they’d been together for over twenty years? How could _he_ have misunderstood the glaringly obvious?

He slowly backed away to give them their privacy. He’d intruded enough.

**-o-**

Castiel settled into a fugue as he moved around Balthazar’s house and did perfunctory work at the NovaCorp. He looked at the numbers, attended the meetings in a daze, and his limbs were heavy weights. 

He didn’t know how long it was before Gabriel was in front of him, his brother’s lollipop brandished as a sword in Castiel’s office in the Novak Tower. “Sometimes, brother, you make me so mad!”

Castiel didn’t focus on the words, just the tone and hid from his brother’s scrutiny. Castiel knew what he looked like, he’d lost weight and his shirt hung loosely on his shoulders, and while he’d never been buff he had taken the time for appearances. Now he had a few day’s worth of scruff and dark circles under his eyes. “Gabriel, when did you arrive?”

Gabriel took a deep breath and closed his eyes, acknowledging the evasion but giving Castiel his space. “Balthazar has been calling and calling, and I took the first airship out that I could manage.” There was accusation in the tone, but before he could go on a tirade, Gabriel deposited a box before Castiel.

It was elegantly done in black, with six glittering points in silver. Ursa Minor in all its glory against an empty sky. Underneath the lid, a vial nestled between cardboard foldouts. It contained two translucent lenses. The box included sterilizing fluid, a small cog-and-wheel lift to retrieve the lenses from the bottle easily, and manuals. 

Castiel looked up at his brother. “You produced it.”

Gabriel pursed his mouth, squinted at Castiel before he continued, “I had a hundred boxes made with my money.” 

Castiel frowned as he closed the box. “Wouldn’t the NovaLens manufacture by the thousands?”

“I quit NovaCorp and devoted my focus to this. Cas, it’s sold out already, and I have another hundred waiting with just enough capital to build more.”

“You sold it under a different brand.” Castiel traced the silver lines. The packaging was black and sterling. NovaTech was in classic white, blue, and red. He turned over the box in his hands. “NovaTech owns all the patents to Nova. How did you do that?”

Gabriel blew his bangs from his face. “The system was distinctive enough that with a few tweaks and dubbing the lens a unique name, it pushed through. Plus, I know Mother will never fight out a lawsuit against us in public. Wouldn’t want to drag the Novak name through the mud.”

Michael would throw a fit when he found out. But Gabriel knew his way around the patent laws, so Castiel didn’t worry about that. “What did you name it?”

“You left suddenly with Luke of all people, so I had to go through your notes.” Gabriel rolled his eyes, but there was a promise that they _would_ talk about Castiel’s hasty retreat soon. “You have this doodle over the sides sometimes when you write, and it was a recurring theme. I went with that.”

Doodled? Castiel had some rough sketches and vague words when his thoughts were idling during the design process. He couldn’t remember if there was anything his brother could have used. Gabriel closed the box and flipped it to its side. There, embossed in black, was the name: Polaris Glass.

Castiel traced the letters reverently. He hadn’t remembered the doodles, but he knew why they were there.

“Moment of truth, kiddo.” 

Castiel looked around the room done in all white: From the alabaster marble at his feet, the floor to ceiling awnings that shone the bright noonday sun into the office, the ivory seats that Castiel always had difficulty trying to maintain in its pristine condition, the glass partitions hid nothing. Even the tabletops were in a frosted glass that bleached the room. 

What was Castiel doing here?

He’d loathed working in accounts his entire life, and he came back because it was safer? Because it was easier than being discarded? Because his family told him that he couldn’t cope on his own and the one time that he’d tried, he’d failed? Had he decided to believe that he was only as good as his name?

Castiel brought the box when he walked up to the top floor, the elevator doors dinging to announce their arrival. He strode past his mother’s secretary. The cinnamon and vanilla potpourri his mother used to calm her nerves assaulted his senses. It reminded him of all the times when he’d been called up here for a reprimand. Michael and Naomi stopped talking as soon as he entered.

Naomi steepled her fingers as she leaned against the wingback chair that the entire office had dubbed as ‘the throne.’ “Castiel. Michael and I were just discussing you.”

Ah. Well, it’s not as if Castiel saw his family. They lived in the same house but ate their meals separately. The Novak Manor was large enough that no one needed to do something as lowbrow as _run into_ each other.

“Mother thinks we should move you from the finance department to Senior VP of Software Engineering,” Michael offered.

_Were they joking?_ Castiel thought, blinking rapidly, blatantly staring at the two of them. After he’d asked for that very thing half of his life, _now_ they decide that they could just give him the position. “What prompted this?”

“Your recent sojourn into the US. I’ve been made aware that you’ve been unhappy here,” Naomi expounded, her eyes watching Castiel closely. 

Gabriel shouldered his way in front of Castiel, which surprised the youngest Novak. “Oh, so this is _not_ because of Polaris.”

Naomi waved her hand dismissively. “Castiel deserves his side projects.”

Stunned, Castiel looked from Michael to Naomi. But Gabriel had opened his NovaWatch and displayed a holo of Polaris projections. “This is the _side project_ Castiel has been working on.”

Naomi didn’t dabble with tech, but she understood money. The lens projections were small. The starting funds _were_ Gabriel’s personal fund. Extrapolated, it would never surpass the NovaWatch. But it _would_ eat at the watch’s profit margins. And if Castiel produced a wearable that was more ubiquitous than the lenses? An earpiece, or a dermal implant…? The possibilities were vast.

“It’s never been a side project for me, Mother,” Castiel whispered.

Naomi pursed her lips. “We never did see eye to eye.”

Suppose he stayed here, took the lead in development for NovaCorp, what would happen? Naomi could always transfer him once she thought he was underperforming. Castiel would spend the rest of his time looking over his shoulder and fearing that he didn't please her enough.

He felt the weight of the realization on his shoulders. He’d curled them around his chest reflexively. “I’d hoped… I’d hoped that by offering you Polaris, I’d make you see that—”

Castiel broke off, but Gabriel’s shoulder bumped against his in silent support. 

It suddenly dawned on him that he would never get that small touch of encouragement here, not in NovaCorp’s ivory tower. He should have realized it sooner. Before he’d wasted his entire life trying to please people who were too narrow-minded to acknowledge him for who he was, and were instead determined to mold him into who they thought he should be.

Castiel straightened and met Naomi’s cold gaze. “I’m leaving. You have thousands of employees. You don’t need me.”

“It’s not about us needing you, Castiel,” Michael scoffed. “You’ve depended on the Novak fortune for your entire life. Are you sure you are cut out for starting a company from scratch?”

On the contrary, Castiel was doubtful of his abilities. He’s had his whole course plotted for him the moment he was born, and his mother and Michael have taken advantage of that repeatedly. But Michael would only see that as a weakness.

Castiel turned on his heel to leave. He caught Gabriel’s eye and jerked his head towards the door.

Gabriel smirked at their family before he followed Castiel out, calling back, “Watch the sales of this little side project, Mother. It’s gonna entertain you when you miss us.”

**-o-**

Dean drove to a local bar, away from the Roadhouse, that night. After several shots of whiskey and more bottles of beer than was advisable, he had found his target: a voluptuous woman with dark hair. He had caught her eye a few times, giving her an interested glance. Her brown eyes had immediately responded, looking him over from head to toe.

He took her out to the Chevrolet and showed her how spacious the backseat was. She gave him her number afterward, saying to call her. Dean had found their conversation flirty. 

He decided to call her. Sometime later. Maybe.

The next morning, Dean felt like death warmed over, and Sam gave him a bottle of aspirin, water, and the most judgemental expression that he could muster.

“What?”

There was a beat of silence before, “Mom and Dad want to go out for breakfast. Think you can pull yourself together?” 

Dean scrubbed a hand down his face. He was not prepared for this shit before his morning dose of caffeine.

He walked with Sam to the diner attached to the inn where Mom and Dad were staying. Dean allowed himself to be herded along, and Sam was content to brood over Dean’s choices. If any of his family members noticed he had deep circles around the eyes, they carefully ignored it.

The Winchesters sat together on a booth meant for six, the well-scratched tabletop between them. John leaned close to Mary, one hand clasped with hers on top of the table while they ordered. Sam was gaping at the display. Their parents hadn’t shown this much easy affection in front of the brothers before. 

Neither of them mentioned it, but Dean could feel the curiosity bursting out of Sam with his knee occasionally bumping Dean’s.

“So, when did you get here?” Sam asked Mom, curious. 

Dean was glad Sam had asked first because he wanted the answer without outright asking.

“I chased your father across the Atlantic as soon as he left.” Her ears were an endearing shade of red.

“Your mother thought I would do something drastic.” Dad brought her hand up to place a kiss on her knuckles. 

Dean thought Sam’s eyes would pop out of his head. It got slightly more surreal the longer they watched the display of affection.

The blond waitress set down their cups of coffee, which broke the awkward tableau. 

A sip jolted Dean’s system awake. He needed more caffeine for this, preferably the entire pot. “What _were _you planning to do?” 

Dad’s gaze sharpened. “I screwed up with you, didn’t I?”

“John,” Mom intervened, but Dad shook his head.

“I love you, boys,” Dad admitted gruffly, his hands clutching Mom’s to his chest as if he was taking strength from it. The world tilted on its axis. “If you feel trapped in the Ark… Sam, you can go to Stanford. We have the funds for it. Take your exams then get on an airship back to Gehenna to wait for admissions there. It’ll be easier for you.”

Sam’s hands were fidgeting over the napkins, and he took the statement with mild disbelief. “Go back to the Ark? So I wouldn’t leave again?” 

John sighed, but before he could speak, Mary leaned forward. Using her free hand to still Sam’s own. She said, “It’s an invitation to come back only because of how you’ve been living here. You’re welcome to stay, but your father and I would be more at ease if we knew you were eating and sleeping right. You could return once Stanford accepts you, and you have access to the dorms.” 

Sam stilled. If their parents were offering their blessing and support for the university, then Sam didn’t really have to be away. That left Dean. Dad’s gaze swung to him next before he said, “I talked to Naomi last night. Given the current situation, the deal with the Novaks is off.”

Dean didn’t ask what that decision cost the business.

A pit opens inside Dean’s stomach. Sam was giving him an expression that was a cross between sad-puppy-eyes and annoying-little-brother. Dean dubbed it as his constipated look; it would morph to his let’s-talk-about-it look once they were alone. 

“Yeah.” Dean’s answer was almost drowned out by the din of the people eating their meals.

“I hope someday you understand that I did it because I wanted to make sure you were cared for long after we are gone.”

“The merger had nothing to do with it?” Dean asked as he studied at his cup, his fingers rubbing the rim. The scent of the coffee soothed him, and the steam that was slowly wafting from it warmed his hands. It was familiar even if this conversation with his parents was rapidly zooming into uncharted waters. 

“We don’t need the deal to stay afloat. I just want what I...”

“I know that’s a big reason you didn’t like your engagement. You thought I was unhappy with my situation.” Mom picked up where Dad faltered again, and Dean didn’t know how he never saw it. Mom had always been his dad’s silent supporter. Other than the engagement, she said nothing bad about Dad, waited for him patiently during the evenings when they had meals in the galley. “I was unhappy because my father sent me away, and life was _hard_ in Gehenna. But I _chose_ to stay. My place has always been by your father’s side even when I thought he… it was… my place is beside him.”

Even when she’d sent them off, she committed to staying. Dean thought it had been to protect them, but maybe it was because she truly loved Dad. 

“You saw my dissatisfaction with my lot in the Ark, but you didn’t notice all the good moments we’ve had despite it.” Mom gave a pained smile. “That’s on me.”

“Mary and I have decided to take the Chevrolet and do what you boys did. Travel around and see the sights,” Dad said, successfully diverting the conversation. It startled both Sam and Dean, their father has never taken more than a few days off work before. “I’ve talked with Jim Murphy, and he’s willing to take over. Unless… do you want to run _Mary’s Ark_ while I’m gone?”

“And do what? Report to you every week?”

“If you want to,” Dad answered, and Dad always honored his word. “But you don’t need to. I know you like tinkering with the engines... Dean, do you really want to spend your days here bartending and scraping for a living, when you could go back and do what you really love?”

“What your father _meant_ to say—” Mary said, with a pointed look at John, “—is that it’s up to you. And yes, you may do your designs. We’ve both looked it over, and we think it’s doable. But start small. And don’t convert _all _the engines until we’ve installed a few and seen how they work.”

Dean gave a slow disbelieving nod of his head. His fingers itched to call Cas to share the good news. But he lost the rights to talk to Cas when he spoke to him in anger, didn’t he?

The engagement was well and truly over. Dean had been handed everything he wanted: a place back home, permission to implement his designs… 

But victory tasted like the ashes of a different set of dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I dunno if it’s any help, but the entire Chapter 8 was written to Avril Lavigne playing _I’m with you_ on repeat. XD


	9. Monoceros: The Unicorn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> > _Meg called me a unicorn today. I’m still baffled why my friends simply don’t use Castiel._
>> 
>> **Castiel’s letter to Anna Milton**

Shifting Castiel’s mindset from NovaLens to Polaris Glass had taken a few weeks. The rough start of working from the basement of Gabriel’s house threw that into perspective.

In less than a year, they’d sold two hundred units. Gabriel excitedly put Castiel to work for upgrades. He obliged with neural uplink technology, which took out the need for gestures to get the Polaris to respond. 

Five years brought change. At least they weren’t in the back of Gabriel’s garage anymore. They had enough money to rent space in Palo Alto and a team to share the workload with them. 

Castiel buttoned the double-breasted suit. Balthazar had sent it as congratulations for the introduction of Polaris Duo. He’d threatened to throw the tan overcoat in the burner if Castiel even thought about putting it on.

While Castiel was wrestling with the midnight-blue cravat, Gabriel entered unceremoniously. His brother was dressed in a red and black brocade frock, eyeing Castiel’s outfit. “Balthazar may still be an utter dewdropper and an egg, but the man has taste. And he’s got your measurements.” 

Castiel rolled his eyes at Gabriel but didn’t comment. He touched the NovaWatch that was resting on his desk but decided against wearing it, settling on solely using Polaris instead. “I’m ready,” he announced.

Gabriel tutted as he circled his brother to confirm, he shoved a vial of the Polaris Duo at Castiel. It was the same lenses Castiel had been unsuccessfully trying to send to Dean as a gift since he’d finished them. “For luck,” Gabriel explained, then lead him to the car. 

Like Gabriel, the steam car was loud and done up in red and gold. Castiel never knew the Bevells could produce such a garish monstrosity, but there they were.

Balthazar waited for them at the entrance of the Shrine Auditorium. The outside was finished in horse-shoe arches topped with Moorish domes. Despite the plain exterior, the inside was a marvel. Even Gabriel’s attire looked somber compared to its full-length windows. Its artisans had stained it with scimitars and had them extravagantly colored.

“Come on, darling.” Balthazar pulled Castiel along the hallway, where the roses they’d decorated the tables with scented the air. 

holoEngines that projected the night sky onto the walls and the ceilings dotted the walk. The auditorium was no less grand. It was already filled with people who’d been waiting to hear about the launching of Polaris. 

_How much money had Gabriel spent on this marketing stunt? _Castiel thought as he watched from the stage wings.

When Gabriel took the stage, his leather boots with its bright red spatterdashes clicked on the wooden floor. The collective murmur of the audience slowly petered out as Gabriel reached the center. 

The transformation from modest trickster to the larger than life presenter happened while he whistled a low tune. Gabriel immediately commanded attention, his presence dominating the room. “Hey, guys, I’m super excited to be here today to introduce you to Polaris Duo!”

There was a burst of applause in the background. Gabriel grinned and used the entire stage for his performance. He worked the crowd by showing how they’d revolutionized the lenses. Castiel had made them more comfortable to use. It also protected user privacy, which was challenging to do in an externally projected holo.

“It’s your phone, your personal assistant, and—more importantly—it doesn’t_ blab _your secrets.”

Laughter dotted the audience. Balthazar handed Castiel a flute of champagne as they watched Gabriel in his element. The glass was cool to the touch and much needed after the nervousness had parched Castiel’s throat.

Gabriel ended with, “The North Star, Polaris, is the guiding light when we’ve lost our way. I hope you let Polaris guide you as well.”

It was a marketing spin, obviously. The team had found meaning other than the embarrassing fact that Castiel doodled the name as a love-sick note over the entire margin of his designs. 

“Thank you! Before I leave the stage, I want you all to raise your glasses. They all raised? OK, good.” 

Castiel had a bad feeling about how Gabriel was looking at the wings and at him. This was confirmed when Gabriel said, “This is my little brother Castiel, the one who made Polaris. Let’s all wish him a happy birthday!”

**-o-**

Dean pulled on the too-tight red ascot he’d tied around his neck as he watched LA’s elite file into the Shrine Auditorium. He was more comfortable with his pauldron and working shirt instead of this monstrosity of a vest and top hat where his automobile goggles rested.

Sam had insisted on his best attire. _No wonder, _Dean thought when he saw the amount of ruffles, lace, and jewels that crusted the other attendees. 

Dean tapped the black invitation dotted with silver on his hand. The more he looked at it, the more he felt that they were the constellations, the little dipper, and the big dipper. It _was_ the launching of some new tech, and Sam urged Dean to attend.

It might help with the newer models of engines when they were precision lining, Sam argued, or some bull like that. Dean didn’t know why he had to attend. He could have gone to a store and seen it, but Sam gave him a strained sigh, slapped a fancy holo-laden invitation card in his hand, and urged him on.

“Why are you so damned eager for me to go to this thing, anyway?” Dean asked earlier. He was exasperated when he was trying on Sam’s clothes (they were two sizes too big, the gigantor) to see which would make him seem less like a boy playing with his dad’s clothing. 

Sam became altogether too shifty after that. His behavior was sketchy and made Dean deeply uneasy. Sam had said, “I’m going to a party with Jessica this evening so I can’t attend. We need someone to go as Winchester’s representatives. Look, it’s addressed to Winchester Motors.”

Dean had flipped the card and saw that Sam was right. The family business was mostly in energy, so a holo tech (and possibly communications) weren’t in their line of industry. But if Sam said there was worth something to talk about in the product launch, at the very least use the transmission device in _Mary’s Ark_ for a safer ship, Dean was all for it.

“I thought I was here because we were doing wedding rehearsals for you and Jessica,” Dean pointed out in a huff. 

Sam rolled his eyes. They’d been neck-deep in preparations for months. But Sam and Jess decided to hold the ceremony in Jessica’s hometown of Los Angeles, where they’d arrived just yesterday. Dean had been crashing on the couch ever since.

“Mom and Dad are coming tomorrow, fresh from their umpteenth honeymoon. You have a night free to yourself. You should go out and see the sights. Plus, this mixes business with pleasure, so it’s right up your alley.”

Now, a mere three hours later, Dean stood, looking around and wondering how the hell Sam could think this shindig would equal “pleasure” in Dean’s book. He was uncomfortable with LA’s elite, and he fidgeted in his chair. It earned him a glare from the woman who was seated next to him, wearing a mink coat on her shoulders. He winked at her, and she huffed in annoyance before turning her sights back to the empty stage. Dean thought her uppity and presumptuous. The presentation wasn’t even starting yet. He wasn’t distracting by shifting around when there wasn’t even anything going on.

When the curtain lifted, a short blonde man walked onto the stage. His presence was large despite his small stature, but that wasn’t what drew his attention. No, it was the companion he’d left behind in the wings.

Maybe it was the dim lighting, with the spotlight on center stage. Maybe it was the holos, but Dean felt like he’d been thrown under a stampede. He’d seen Cas in every corner of his world in the years he’d separated with him. While Sam called him out on it when they were in the Roadhouse, once he’d burned bridges with Castiel, it was as if his specter followed him everywhere.

He’d had a string of dark-haired, blue-eyed lovers, but it was worse than that. There had been a girl in Belo he’d dated during his shore leaves because she loved honey and had an amateur beehive in her backyard. He’d gone on with one of the Ark’s engineers, Aaron Bass. Aaron’s dainty wrist and fingers reminded Dean of Cas’ grip when he was straining for release. That turned out to be a spectacularly bad idea, especially since he couldn’t drive away when Aaron asked, “Who’s Cas?” the next day.

He spent half of the presentation looking at the sidelines, trying to check if it _really_ was Cas or just a hallucination. His anxiety grew exponentially as he vacillated between praying it was Cas and hoping that he was wrong. Because no matter how long ago he’d seen Cas, it both felt like yesterday when they’d argued, and forever since he’d run his tongue against those chapped lips.

Several waiters began circulating discreetly. They handed the attendees an alcoholic beverage in some fancy-ass glass. Dean barely paid them attention. His focus was on the stage wings. It’s where a similarly attired man came close to _his_—_this_ Castiel look-a-like—and handed him a drink. 

A vice clamped on Dean’s heart.

“—Castiel, a happy birthday!” The speaker concluded.

The vice clamped shut and squeezed slowly. This couldn’t be happening. 

In a hundred ways, Dean imagined seeing Castiel again and offered his heart in a thousand ways. But he hadn’t thought there would be a time where Castiel wouldn’t have accepted the offer because he’s moved on.

Dean abruptly stood, earning him another glare from the dead-animal-coat woman. Impatient because he wanted to _leave_, he said, “Look, lady. Either you move and let me piss in the toilet, or you stay there, and we’ll both stink like an open sewer.” It was crass and had its desired effect, she primly turned her nose and body away to allow him the space to pass. 

Goddamned Sam and his meddling. That’s why his baby brother had been insistent that the wedding be held in LA, that Dean come during _this_ week, that he go to the launch party. The little shit had planned it all along.

What’s worse, he started noticing the holos he passed by giving a small ping before flaring red. It only returned to its neutral sky once he was within another holo’s range. Dean took out his invitation suspiciously from his pocket and was about to chuck it in the opposite direction when a hand clamped on his shoulder, and its owner said, “You came! Wonderful. I suppose you’re Dean Winchester?”

He turned to come face-to-face with the smarmy dude who was with Castiel on the wings. Frankly, Dean was offended Cas chose this guy, with his million and one crow’s feet, the weird half-beard, and that pretentious accent. “Who wants to know?”

“Balthazar Roché.” The man even sketched a low bow, which was all kinds of weird. It was the same man who’d given Castiel drinks. The same douche who’d earned Castiel’s fond smile—a smile that Dean had thought was reserved just for him. Dean rolled his eyes, and Balthazar chuckled. “Hard to please this crowd. Gabriel thought you might disappear before you said hello, so he sent me to fetch you.”

“That’s easy to do when your invitation is sending homing beacons.” Balthazar did not contradict him, so Dean assumed it was the truth. Dean tried to push forward, saying, “I was about to leave.” 

Balthazar blocked his way again. 

“Cassie doesn’t know you’re here.” Balthazar leaned in conversationally as if they were old friends. As if Dean wasn’t feeling the urge to blacken one of his eyes. “Gabriel didn’t want to give you the opportunity to let him down. It _is_ his birthday.”

That got his hackles up. Gabriel was judging him for trying to protect himself. Dean shouldn’t care—he didn’t know the guy—but Gabriel already made tons of assumptions, and Dean was far too stubborn to prove a total stranger correct. Dean made an about-face and marched wherever Balthazar guided him.

That vice was back again, and his heart was pounding heavy against his chest. When they approached Cas, Dean simultaneously wished that the ground would eat him up and that the night would be over.

Balthazar sidled up to Castiel, who had just finished talking with a patron. He stood near the periphery, almost hidden by one of the tall vases that held ferns. 

Balthazar leaned in intimately for a soft whisper in Castiel’s ear before announcing, “Darling, see who your brother invited.”

_Darling? _Cas wasn’t a darling. He was sweetheart or honey, or definitely _something_ else. His Cas was nobody’s _darling._

Castiel’s expression was a mix of horrified disbelief and unadulterated longing. Dean couldn’t read between the mixed signals. Then Castiel blinked, and he’d masked whatever it was in polite indifference. “Hello, Dean.”

Sometimes Dean thought he’d imagined how Castiel’s voice sounded like fine wine and smoky bars. Up close, it was richer and deeper than what he remembered. He talked the way he’d groaned out his name in release when they were close and stealing every moment.

Everyone was looking at him. Including the short and flamboyant host, whom Dean assumed to be Gabriel despite being more than a few tables away. 

Right. “Cas… tiel.” Dean belatedly reminded himself that he probably shouldn’t use the nickname anymore. 

If possible, Castiel’s eyes further shuttered. A waiter offered an attendee the wine selection. Castiel snagged one and took a sizeable swallow before he turned back. “Thank you for coming.”

_I’ve missed you. I haven’t been the same. I need you._ Dean was an emotionally constipated idiot who lives with both sublimation and compartmentalization, so he said none of those things. Instead, he broke out into a smile which ended up being brittle. “This is all fancy and shit. I couldn’t even believe the place.”

Castiel nodded then turned, probably to speak to Balthazar, his lips in a slight grimace to discover he was gone. If Castiel were Dean’s, he’d never leave him alone. The band on his chest loosed slightly. Being with Castiel had always been easy. 

“I thought we’d be inviting a few guests to a simple product release.” Castiel waved at the room to show the grand auditorium, the lavish clothes. “Gabriel is a consummate Novak and does nothing by halves.”

There was a strained silence between them, and Dean didn’t know how to fill the gaps that Cas left for him. Thankfully, a waiter passed by with hors d’oeuvres. Dean welcomed the distraction, poring over the selection before he popped a scallop into his mouth. The rest of the food was mouthwatering, but the tray was whisked away before Dean could hide behind it. 

When he couldn’t use a full mouth as an excuse to delay talking to Cas, he made a play of looking around with an exaggerated whistle, before his eyes settled on Castiel again. “You finished the lenses, huh?”

“The second one, yes. It was rough when we started out.” Castiel rubbed the back of his neck, something that Dean always found endearing. “Gabriel and I pooled all of our money to make the first few batches, but now we have investors and stock. Say what you will of Naomi and her mothering, but she was a fair employer. We weren’t exactly poor despite being away from the Novak Empire.”

“And now you have all of this.” Dean echoed the gesture Castiel had made earlier. Castiel had achieved so much in the time that they’d been separated. Dean was genuinely impressed at what he’d accomplished. “And you did it without your family’s help. I’m so proud of you.”

Castiel’s joy at the words shone through his eyes. And those Dean had definitely not forgotten. Brighter than the aquacasite, they mined in the Ark and the deepest blue of a tropical ocean. He could still get lost in them, waiting for a question that he still didn’t know the answer to.

“Are you happy?” If Castiel was truly happy with this Balthazar dude, then he could swallow his pride. Their time had come and gone. It was a brief shooting star that burned once then disappeared over the horizon. He had plenty of memories of Castiel.

Castiel looked down into his glass, his fingers toyed with the rim before he returned Dean’s gaze. “Very much so.”

Dean took Castiel’s fingers and squeezed it. “I’m glad.”

“Dean, I’m sorry about—”

“I don’t care about that anymore. It’s long forgotten.” Dean cut Castiel off before he apologized for the past that they both had faults in. “Whatever you did and didn’t do? It doesn’t matter.”

Castiel beamed at him before he pulled out a vial from his pocket, radiating a cool blue that almost shimmered. “I want you to have this. These helped me find my way when I was lost. I hope you find your dreams too.”

Dean looked at the vial and realized that it was a set of lenses. “I couldn’t—”

“They’re my gift to you, Dean. In return for everything that you’ve given me.”

“I’ve given you nothing that you didn’t have yourself.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. You’ve always given me the courage to continue when I thought I would fail.” Castiel folded Dean’s fingers over the vial, muting the blue light. “I’ve always taken from you. Let me give you something back.” 

Dean tried to speak, but his voice cracked on the third attempt, “thanks, Cas.”

**-o-**

Castiel lost Dean between the well-wishers and the investors. Now that Castiel knew Dean was here, he had tried to keep an eye on the green-eyed man. Unfortunately, he’d found his brother first. Balthazar told him that it was Gabriel who had arranged for Dean’s presence. Castiel was unsure if he wanted to bury his brother in their backyard or shower him with candy. 

“Have you shagged him yet?” Gabriel asked as soon as Castiel was alone. His brother cornered him between the buffet and the alcohol stand and didn’t seem like he would be deterred. The backyard burial was becoming more and more tempting. “The amphitheater boxes are very _private _if you know what I mean.”

“I’m sorry, I should have realized you were an expert in small, less-than-discreet spaces.” Castiel deadpanned in answer to Gabriel’s wagging eyebrows. “Let me take some notes.”

“My point is, for the love of God, why have you not done anything other than send each other pining looks when you are sure the other isn’t looking?” Gabriel asked with a strained voice as he followed Castiel. Gabriel would not let the subject drop. “If I wanted to watch a daytime holo, I would have stabbed myself with a fork earlier!”

“You’re being overdramatic,” Castiel dismissed. 

Gabriel wouldn’t be able to understand what was happening. 

Though Dean had forgiven Castiel for the lack of truth between the two of them, it wasn’t like before. Dean was polite, gave Castiel a smile he reserved for waitresses and bellboys, and offered nothing beyond platitudes.

Dean hadn’t left yet. Castiel was sure of that despite not knowing exactly where he was at. Somehow this was all his own fault. When he’d seen Dean with Balthazar, a weight that he hadn’t known he’d been carrying for the past five years lifted. Balthazar brought Dean over, and his friend had whispered happy birthday before leaving. 

Castiel hadn’t known what to expect of their first meeting, but it wasn’t the restrained civility they’d offered each other. 

Gabriel huffed and gave a defeated sigh. “There’s a serious investor that wants to meet you in the courtyard.”

“Gabriel…”

“It’s the last one, Cassie, I promise. I’ll field the rest with Balthazar, and you can go. Just this one for me. It’s important.”

Gabriel has been worrying about him since Castiel ran away from the engagement all those years ago. Castiel was a prickly porcupine. He has never understood the difference between the conditional, controlling love of the rest of the family, and Gabriel’s well-intentioned meddling. But Gabriel could rely on Castiel’s sense of duty for this one thing.

As far as Castiel was concerned, it was his brother’s marketing skills that had sold the first hundred boxes to hobbyists and the shops that catered to them. The next hundred sales moved slower. Then they’d caught a break when a few of the tech journos started reporting that Polaris was a more compact solution than NovaWatches and cellphones and, more importantly, had the option to project in retina instead of outward as a hologram. It was as much Gabriel’s success as it was his own, so Castiel followed with minimal fuss.

The courtyard was not as grand as the interior. It had a central fountain, and the intricately colored tiles on the floor were softer in the half-light. It was almost peaceful here. Even the music that came from the orchestra was muted.

At the fountain, haloed by the lights coming from the auditorium, stood Dean. The way that Dean looked up into the night sky was reminiscent of their times on the road, and Castiel could stare at him for days. His heart hammered in his chest, despite the fact that this was their second meeting in as many hours. They’d had the benefit of other people as a buffer, the waiters, the other guests. Out here, they were alone.

Steeling himself, Castiel strolled towards Dean, his hands on the deep pockets of his trousers. He wished that Balthazar allowed him his coat, where he could have at least hidden some parts of himself.

Castiel must have made a sound because Dean turned abruptly, their noses inches apart, their breath mingling in the evening air. So close that Castiel, even in the dim light, could see the almost invisible line of freckles that dusted Dean’s nose.

Castiel was back at the observatory again, his arms around Dean and smelling the leather of the jacket he wore when driving. Castiel took a deep breath, inhaling Dean, something that he’d missed viscerally until this moment. He’d spent hours browsing clothing stores just to have a whiff of this scent and none ever compared. Even beer and whiskey have been completely untouchable because they tasted like—

Castiel broke the stare. He didn’t have the right to these memories anymore.

“Always the quiet one, aren’t you? You’re going to miss out.”

A conversation that they’d began a long time ago. In a dance that Castiel had forgotten the steps to. “The stars, unlike the sunrise, are much more enduring.”

“What am I doing here, Cas?” Dean hadn’t taken a step back, and they were still kissing close. “Your boyfriend can’t be too thrilled that I’m alone here with you.”

Castiel tilted his head in confusion before finally realizing Gabriel still had a hand in this. As much as Castiel feared this moment, he was thankful for Gabriel’s interference for once. Castiel wouldn’t have come otherwise. Now that he’s with Dean, Castiel realized he’s forgotten _why_ he has been stubbornly refusing to meet him. “Boyfriend? I don’t… was there?”

“You know the poncy guy? Yay high? Pretentious v-neck brocade vests over an equally flashy shirt?”

_Balthazar? What has…_ Castiel’s thoughts careened to a stop, and he stepped back to hide a laugh behind his palm. It wouldn’t do to show Dean that the jealousy overjoyed him. He heard Dean’s frustrated growl, and Castiel took his hand, tightening his grip when Dean tried to pull away. “Balthazar is a dear old friend of mine. He takes his liberties, but he’s always been just a friend. He knows all about you.”

Dean’s grip slackened. There was the beginning of hope in his eyes. It’s something that Castiel dared not wish for.

“Where are you going after this?” Castiel asked. Because they couldn’t end here as strangers, never to meet again. “Palo Alto to visit Sam?”

“It’s Sammy’s wedding this week, actually. The girl he met, her parents live here.” Dean shrugged, but he’d returned Castiel’s hold now, and he wasn’t letting go. “After that… uh, I’m picking up my certificate from Palo Alto. I got some holo classes. Apparently, they were offering it, and, uh, I went back to the Ark. I really loved working with the engines. I just needed Dad to see some of my ideas...”

Castiel broke into a broad smile, teeth showing. “That’s great, Dean!”

“Do you… want to come?”

Castiel tilted his head again. “To the Ark?”

Dean guffawed. It loosened something in Castiel. It was a reminder that though it had been years since they’d seen each other, he had once followed this blinding light. Would have been following him still, if he’d but asked. 

“To the wedding. But sure, we could visit the Ark sometime. I haven’t… ah, my brother saved me an extra seat, and I don’t have a date for it yet.”

“A meal, a ride. Possibly company,” Castiel echoed.

“Yeah, Cas. What do you say?”

Castiel cupped Dean’s face. [“I think it’s just about perfect.”](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21119249/chapters/50258528)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CON CRIT welcome. [tumblr link](https://deancasbigbang.tumblr.com/post/188520861935/title-chasing-polaris-author-icedreams), [tumblr reblog link](https://www.tumblr.com/reblog/188520861935/7P15ueXx)
> 
> Mostly I dabble in canon, barring that I write fantasy. So though this is largely steampunk-ish, there was still a modern(??)-day element that I usually don’t write with. So thanks takai for giving me the challenge.
> 
> FAQs when writing this behemoth. 
> 
> Stava Istana is actually Bermuda. Bermuda accent does sound American to the British and British to Americans. Bermudans can actually study in the USA without a visa, but need a visa to work unless they’re studying. The islands are made up, just making everything steampunkish and needed an island location.
> 
> I really wanted to ramp up Cas and Dean and Sam’s foreign vibe. And in some ways, it did come out. Cas’ confusion over the taxes, the tipping culture, the fact that he’s being given a takeaway box, the food portions, the endless driving (OMG how can guys want to drive forever? I want to walk and maybe be in the car for thirty minutes). Despite Dean and Sam being on a ship, they were exposed to Bobby Singer. Cas, despite living in the US for a while was never exposed to US culture because he was very sheltered. There were a ton of things I wanted to include (like being given an empty cup for free refills) but wouldn’t work in the time setting, being able to return stuff within 90 days, the amount of choices in grocery stores (although there was a similar one when they were in the Firework’s store) but anyway I really loved the fact that I was a foreigner and had a lot of culture shock while I was in America and finally got to write that in this context.
> 
> I wanted to write more ship scenes, like a cooking scene with Cas, and maybe the Sunday fiesta day they usually take in the boat, but there wasn’t a lot of plot advancement in those, so it had to be scrapped. Imagine tho, Cas in an apron and trying to work the galley.
> 
> Also, freighter travel is really a thing, even today. And… after writing a whole day of it, I guess it really is boring because Cas and Dean just wanted to work and read. There goes that idea. (And I just finished SO MUCH RESEARCH ON IT TOO)
> 
> Osric Chau (Kevin Tran’s actor XD) is actually Chinese-Malaysian, but he recently did a movie in the Philippines _Empty by Design_, where he was Chinese-Filipino. I went with that in this series. And it’s true, one in every 5 seamen are Filipino.
> 
> The Chevrolet Impala is obviously a 1960’s car (duh) and since we were going for steampunk, Baby was converted to its earlier cousin, a [Chevrolet Classic Six Model H](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chevrolet_Series_C_Classic_Six), or simply the Chevrolet, since during the time it was the only model around. 
> 
> During the concert for the Wayward Sisters. Dean and Cas moments were actually inspired by [Jensen and Danneel](https://www.instagram.com/p/BokOLCqgtlU/?utm_source%3Dig_web_copy_link). I kept flashing back to their sweetness during the ACL festival and couldn’t help but channel them onto Dean and Cas.
> 
> John Winchester’s rag to riches story is based on the Shipping magnate Li Ka Shing from Hong Kong, who initially started in the plastic industry but made an entire conglomerate.
> 
> Charles Novak’s aggressive expansion of NovaTel is also based on entrepreneur  
[Li Ka Shing](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Li_Ka-shing). He’s currently the world’s leading port investor and developer, who is also the senior advisor and Chairman of the Board of his very large company.
> 
> NovaTel, on the other hand, is based on Apple’s company structure. NovaLens (and later on Polaris Glass) was initially made based on[Google Glass](https://www.google.com/glass/start/), but I choked on my own spit when during the editing phase of the fic, Amazon released [Echo Frames](https://www.amazon.com/Echo-Frames/dp/B01G62GWS). And I totally missed an opportunity when I found out that in the US, you’re required to get a doctor’s prescription to buy contact lenses. (You don’t need those in most parts of the world)
> 
> The Bevell's company is modeled after Ford which was the one who started the assembly line jobs in cars (which incidentally, started the decline of steam cars). Lisa's job as a knocker upper (one who wakes up the workers for Ford so they get to work on time) is actually one of the most lucrative jobs back in the day, grossing $9,482/annum. A worker at the Ford factory earned $1,300 and a banker just earned $631. Dean as a bartender would have probably earned less than a cook; the cook at Chatsworth house only earned $292 (but he did get board out of it, which is why he couldn't give it up) despite the Ford/Bevell job.

**Author's Note:**

> Welp, thank you for reaching this part of the story and just sticking with us through this ride. Dean POV was written by takai up to chapter 7, and Cas POV, as well as chapter 8 and beyond, was written by iCe. If you wanna know about the outline and creative process XD why tho why? There’s a [trello board](https://trello.com/b/9hFKsI51/its-never-gonna-end) for this fic. :D
> 
> If you enjoyed reading this and want more of iCe’s fics, they’re all found in AO3.  
If you like Canon and Heaven world-building, pre-slash Dean Cas I’d suggest: [Gates of Bronze and Bars of Iron](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2302379/chapters/5064719)
> 
> If you're into Dark Fantasy please try [Prince of Light](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24372778/). Mind the tags.
> 
> For a discussion on the Cas vs Cass debate in fic format, I offer you: [It’s Cas, not Cass](https://www.google.com/url?q=https://archiveofourown.org/works/15230871)
> 
> For a retrospective look on Dean’s thoughts when making his stupid mixtape: [Dean’s Top 13 Zepp Traxx](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17679548)
> 
> I have two fairytale AUs a Red Riding Hood one: [Under the Red Hood](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18286178) and a Little Mermaid one: [Look at this Food (Isn’t it Neat)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18368435)
> 
> She also writes in the Avatar and Ranma fandom as [iCe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/iCeDreams/pseuds/iCe&sa=D&ust=1571762992174000)
> 
> Again, thank you to [foxymoley](https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxymoley/pseuds/foxymoley)for introducing me to Discord and the profound bond server. Without you, I would have never found betas or the community that is uplifting. Everywhere I looked for betas and said I was having a hard time, people just kept saying: Why??? Looking for betas is easy. Which honestly, was totally not true, and kinda made me feel terrible about NOT finding betas and having a hard time with it. Again thank you. Come join us in discord! I lurk nightly. 
> 
> As an aside, I’m going to Jacksonville Con this 2019. Who wants to meet up??? I totally need more fandom friends. Just holler.
> 
> Some people have written to me telling me this is their first time reading steampunk. So if you want suggestions, when we were editing this, MalMuses also wrote a steampunk story recently, which is more mystery than romance, but also in the genre, check it out if you liked the steampunk elements: The Shadow in the Corner

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Chasing Polaris Art Post](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21119249) by [Pimento](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pimento/pseuds/Pimento)


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